They stare at each other through the rippling glass, worlds apart. One with hard lines across her forehead, the other with craft glitter caught in the wrinkles that frame her eyes, etched by a lifetime of laughter. But it was the same smile that breaks across both their faces, and the same eyes that sparkled with the warmth of molten chocolate as the two reflections stand in stark contrast.
The former poses against a backdrop of satin and velvet, a sleek tablet in her manicured hands complementing the smart cut of her suit. The wall on her left was bedecked in diplomas hailing from the nation’s top graduate institutions, followed by nominations for a Nobel Peace Prize, and finally - a carefully constructed logo, recognizable even to the most ignorant eye. Her jet black hair dropped against her spine, rivaling the sheen of her unforgiving pumps. Through the bay window on her right, the city lights bend and scatter like suspended fireworks.
The latter floats in the studio of her compact farmhouse, feathered cushions strewn about the ground, her walls festooned with scribbles and tapestries alike, complete with the unmistakable signature of generations of toddlers’ fingertips. Behind her, a deck leads into her orchard, the scent of a million cherryblossoms swirling to the quilt of stars overhead. The flowery lace of her handcrafted dress whispers to the paint splattering her bare feet, as the prismatic colors of her choppy hair dance in the moonlight. She lifts her hand, a canvas in its own right, and spreads her calloused fingers across the glass.
Her reflection mimics her movements.
“I hope you’re happy,”
“I hope you’re happy too.”