Two Way Mirror

Two Way Mirror

by fourth year Zoey Stephens

She wore low rise blue jeans frayed around the ankles, dirt stained boot tips peaking out. It was mid October and the air was getting colder. The dusky breeze blew her brown hair around her sharp face. She pulled her fur trimmed jacket in closer as she lifted her gaze. She looked like she had no care in the world, her shoulders set back and her chin lifted up. Her dark eyes glinted, lamplit from the streetlight she stood beside. 

I watched her from the other side of the window in a dimly lit coffee shop, sipping on chai. She was beautiful, certainly, achingly. Her hair and her lips, the curve of her hips, and mostly, that carefree look in her eyes. She looked down at her phone screen as it lit up with light, and her brows creased together as she read what it said. She slipped the phone into her shoulder bag and pushed her hair out of her face. 

Then, she turned to me. 

Through the window she faced me, her eyes right on mine. I smiled. She stared back. She reached into her bag and pulled out a tube of lipstick, slowly applying it to her full lips. 

She smiled. 

She smiled, but she wasn’t looking at me. 

She turned away and walked down the street, long hair still blowing in the dusky breeze. Though she left me at the window my smile remained, I needed no acknowledgement, and neither did she. Beauty for the sake of oneself. 

Sometimes a thing of beauty doesn’t need to know she is being seen.