i n

F

BIGGER

SMALLER

COURIER

GEORGIA

TIMES

VERDANA

COMIC

l

RECENT

POPULAR

e

u

 ^{(it's beta!)}

Ben stood before the mirror hung on the back of his bedroom door. His eyes wandered over the outline of his reflection with a disconcerted stare. The same sort of stare someone would have while trying to solve a rubix cube with missing tiles.

In his formal suit and tie with his long blond hair pulled back in a pony tail he looked ready to attend a funeral. On the calendar tacked to the wall beside the mirror, red ink shouted, “Christmas Party”.

His heart began to drum in his ears as he remembered last year’s party, and the one before that, and the one before that.

Everyone was beautiful.

The chilly night air as it drifted up over the snowy hills and wrapped around him like a wet blanket. Everyone else was inside while he stood under the flickering Christmas lights. The faint sound of laughter mingled with voices and the antique jukebox in the corner of the dining room. Each time he went back to the sliding glass doors the awkward

reflection staring back reminded him of the reason he was outside in the first place;

Everyone inside was perfect. His mother and her blinding Prozac smile, the Thatcher’s from down the lane, their next door neighbors the French’s, and all of his relatives were lovely people that wore red and green cashmere sweaters. Their lives were made up of parties like these every other weekend where they would wear their cashmere and Listerine smiles only to stain them later with red wine.

Ben glanced at the mirror once more and tugged on his tie, grimacing. He gasped and tried to loosen it frantically, as if it was choking him. A small raspy cry escaped him as he staggered backwards seeking the support the wall before the tears came. It wasn’t right; only girls were allowed to cry at this age. Twelve and under was the limit.

He let his hair down.

Gradually the reflection changed as he traced the shape of his eyes with eyeliner and stained his lips with lipstick. His sister’s lace petticoat replaced the suit and soon he was wearing one of his mother’s evening gowns. The reflection smiled back as the smell of nail polish fumigated his room.