Janet Webb copyright
Each mirror is a little different from all the others. Some make you look thinner and some heavier. Some show objects with a reddish caste, others show more blue, and still others favor shadows.
It's all at the behest of the mirror sprite who resides within.
I got me a second-hand mirror at an antiques store in Philadelphia. It reflected the image of my bathroom, all pinks and flowers and lace and happiness.
I live over a garage in the seediest part of town. I thanked the mirror sprite for my new room, though I've never seen him, and never will.
Went a little serious for some reason this week in my Friday Fictioneers entry, probably because my humor writing has been about as funny of late as a colonoscopy performed by a deranged proctologist. Hope I haven't freaked anybody out with this.
You can go to the mirror, boy, to see what the other Fictioneers have done with the prompt by clicking right here.
Meanwhile I'm still looking for that mirror sprite. Frankly I really don't like pink all that much!