The Foggy Mirror

The doorbell rang as I entered the rural antique store. The aroma in the store smelled old and dusty. As I walked onto the wide floorboards, they creaked like I hurt them with every step. It wasn't the scent of dried flowers or scented candles like in most shops, but a stale scent of old wood, iron, and copper that now reminded me of my life. I still remember when my late husband Charles and I visited many antique stores over the years together. We would always find the oldest items, take them home, and refurbish them to a time when it was needed and loved. Is my mind playing tricks on me? Worn-out items on the shelves were crying out for mercy and forgiveness. All the items in the store were speaking out to me to take them home.

As I slowly walked down the next aisle, the voices went silent. I noticed a beautiful, oval-shaped mirror with a dark Oak frame. The engravings on the wood were most unusual; they were faces of people all around the mirror's frame. Their expressions differed: some were sad, and others looked happy, angry, scared, worried, laughing, crying, disgusted, ashamed, guilty, calm, depressed, successful, and loving. I also noticed a swirling fog-like appearance on the inside of the mirror. I can barely see my reflection, just the shape of my head moving ever so slightly from left to right to get a clearer image of myself. I took a tissue from my purse and tried to clean off the mirror. I looked closely and noticed the fog or condensation was on the inside of the mirror; most unusual, I thought. I walked over to the counter to speak with someone about the mirror. No one was there attending the store. I said, "Hello!" No one answered. I noticed a small, rusty, round bell on the counter. I pressed down on the bell, but there was no sound.

I looked underneath the bell and noticed it was rusted permanently. Frustrated, I said, "Hello! Is there anyone there?" With no response, I returned to the mirror and noticed a missing facial expression: sadness. Am I going crazy? I know that expression was there before. Suddenly, I heard a voice from the counter. "May I help you?" His voice sounded so sad. I walked over to the counter, "Yes, can you tell me the price of the oval mirror with the Oak frame?" The old man's facial expression had a deep sadness to it. His eyes, with bags underneath, were telling me a story of his life of deep depression and sadness. "That mirror is not for sale, ma'am." 

 "Why?" I asked. The man looked as if he was about to cry. "The mirror belongs here for the people to see themselves."               

"See themselves? I can't see myself; there is a foggy substance in the mirror, and I can barely make out the shape of my head." The man stared right at me. "Then why would you want to purchase it?" Because it is most unusual to have a mirror with a swirling fog inside. It would make a great conversation piece." A tear rolled down the man's right cheek. "A conversation piece?" he said.                 

"Yes, it is most unique." The man's face was now looking drained and lonely. I said, "Never mind, Sir, if you ever decide to sell it, please call me." I gave the man my cell phone number and left the store. A different man called me three days later and said the mirror was now up for sale in a furious voice. I asked him how much is it and if I can come in now to pick it up. The man said in a loud, crude voice, "The price of the mirror could be negotiated." That afternoon, I entered the store and went directly to the mirror; it wasn't in the exact location. I walked over to the counter and noticed an elderly, tall, skinny woman with so much love on her face about to wrap the mirror in bubble wrap. "Hello! I'm here to pick up the mirror." She looked at me with a sincere smile. "Yes, dear, I have it right here for you." "May I look at it again before you wrap it up for me?" "Of course, my dear." I looked in the mirror and noticed that the expression of sadness returned on the frame, and the manifestation of sincere love was missing. I looked at the woman and asked where the other gentleman had helped me before. "Other gentleman? There is only me, my dear, the store owner," she said softly. "No, there was a man here who was so sad and looked deeply depressed."                                            

 She laughed. "No, dear, just me. Maybe you are thinking of another store you have been to. Sorry, dear." The lovely lady started wrapping the mirror in bubble wrap. "Wait!" I said. The angry man who called me said, we can negotiate a price." With such a sweet, loving voice, the gray-haired lady touched my arm and said, "My dear, we don't negotiate prices with our merchandise. The prices on each item are final." I said, There was no price tag on the mirror." the lady looked at me and said, "The price tag fell off and was kicked under the table. I'm so sorry, dear." She handed me the price tag, and it read ten dollars. I paid the sweet lady ten dollars and went home. When I arrived, I unwrapped the mirror and noticed the expression of sincere love had returned on the frame. I also noticed there was no longer a swirling fog in the mirror. It is evident in my reflection that I looked old. The image of my face was crystal clear; I'd never seen my eyes so worn and tired before. My wrinkled skin is so distinguished around my eyes. My gray hair was not combed, and my teeth had yellowed from enjoying the taste of tea every morning. I showered, set my hair, and applied makeup in the bathroom. I walked into my bedroom, looked into the mysterious mirror, and noticed I looked old and tired. No matter how I tried to cover up my faults created over the years, this mirror always showed my true identity. It felt like the mirror had touched my soul and captured it permanently. The swirling fog slowly returned, covering and capturing the actual image of myself.; old, tired, and sad. I hated the mirror because it only reflected my true image under all my makeup and fancy hair styling. I decided to return this mirror because it would never make me happy; it made me feel old, tired, and sad. Before I put the mirror into the bag, I noticed the image of tiredness and sadness was missing. Is my mind playing tricks on me, or do I genuinely have the beginning signs of Alzheimer's? I pushed the door open to the shop, and the little bell rang on top of the door to notify the owner that a customer had just entered. The smell was the same, and the singing floorboards followed my footsteps towards the counter. "Hello! Is there anyone back there?" I said, holding the mirror. I waited and waited; no one appeared to help me with my return. They may be at lunch or in the bathroom, I thought. I decided to leave the mirror on the counter with a note. I'm returning this mirror because it is no longer needed. It is too old for it to be refurbished. No refund is necessary. Thank you. As I slowly approached the door, a sweet-looking elderly couple entered the shop. They both smiled at me as I passed them. I turned around, looked at them, and noticed they reminded me of my late husband and me shopping for the oldest and most unique items to refurbish. As I was about to turn the doorknob, I overheard the woman's voice, "Charles, look at this unique mirror on the counter. They left a note for it to be returned." I looked down at the floor, smiled, and left the shop. "Hello!" said the woman. No one answered. So, she hit the bell on the counter with her palm; no sound. She turned over the bell and noticed it was old and broken. Suddenly, a woman who looks very old, tired, and sad walks out. "May I help you?"                                   

"Yes, we would like to purchase this most unique mirror, please. How much is it?"                                              

 "Ten dollars," said the woman with uncombed gray hair, wrinkled skin, especially around the eyes, and a slight yellowish tint to her teeth when she spoke. The poor woman looked so old and tired. When she was about to wrap the mirror for the couple, the woman said, "Wait, I swear I saw an old, tired, and sad expression on the frame. Maybe not; sometimes, I wonder if my mind is going." The old, tired, sad lady behind the counter smiled as they left the shop with the foggy mirror. The End.