The Part That Is Mine

I’m staying at a hotel for the week on a work trip. I get up early, and my shoes are tied before sunrise.

As I’m heading out the door, the mirror beside the coat hooks catches me, so I stop and stare at my reflection.

I smooth my collar. I lift my chin. I try on a face. I try another.

I picture the answer I want. I start rehearsing the meeting…

I move a word here, soften a look there, and arrange the whole exchange.

The lamp above the mirror throws my shadow across the wall. I catch myself spiraling and become aware of my racing thoughts.

In the glass, my reflection waits for another instruction.

I say ~

“Turn off the impression.”

My hand drops from my collar.

I let my face relax. I release any expectations. I drop the act…

I give my subconscious one clear instruction ~

I press a little switch beside the mirror. The lamp clicks off, the glass goes dark, and the weight on my shoulders eases as I move away from myself.

I open the door.

Cool air meets me on the step.

I put my keys in my pocket and start walking.

At the end of the block, excuses start crowding into the edges of my mind.

I could wait until tomorrow. Maybe I should find better words before I start talking. I could let enough time pass, and then the apology won’t even be necessary! They’ll forget all about what I did, right?

For a moment, that sounds careful. It sounds… reasonable?

What am I thinking? Actually, those thoughts are not from me at all. I shake myself and steel my nerves.

I stop beside an empty bench and say ~

“Thinking of an excuse? Wipe it out.”

I take out my phone. I open the message thread with an old friend I’ve been neglecting.

Thinking of an excuse? Wipe it out.

I write ~

“I owe you an apology. I was wrong. I’d like to talk when you’re ready.”

I read it once. No defense. No explanation. No excuse.

I send it.

I put the phone away and shut down all further thoughts.

My part was the apology. The next part is on them.

I keep walking. Deep blue thins above me as rose-gold light gathers over the roofs. My hands swing loose at my sides, relaxed and ready.

When I return to the hotel, the hall is brighter. Light streams in from the windows as the sun throws its warmth across the room.

My reflection appears faint in the natural light.