The Picture

A picture in a shop window brings a change to a woman's life.

Every day she passed the picture framing shop on her way to work.

 

Every day she would catch a glimpse of the pretty, time worn face that looked out from the picture in the window display.

 

It was a care worn but friendly face, a silent but beautiful mask of serenity staring back as she shuffled her weary way past and on to her daily grind.

She hated that job.

 

She hated the monotony of the place, the regular routine of opening up, checking the mailbox, making the coffee and waiting for the customers to slide in as if they were avoiding being seen.

 

She didn't blame them, after all, she was a hideous creature. She knew she had grown older and grey, bitter and lined since he left. They had been happy, she had convinced herself, happy without children.

 

They enjoyed a good social life and led a comfortable home life with all the advantages a healthy disposable income could bring. He was handsome and yes, then, she was a good looking and desirable woman.

 

Now each day she would wake early and sit alone watching the sun rise in her empty apartment, dreading the start of each pointless day. She stopped looking in the mirror as she couldn't bear to see the way she had become since the day he stormed out. The day he had called her a fat b***h, a boring plain woman. The terrible day he left her to live with that young mother of two whom he'd met at the races.

 

Since that day, forever etched on her memory, she'd refused to let a reflective image inhabit her home. She didn't need the constant reminders of her ugliness. She avoided any public functions, any open events where she could be seen, could be pitied. She only worked at the charity shop because she knew it rarely got busy and she could bury herself out in the store room sorting through old donated clothing.

 

Her only pleasure was to see that wonderful picture each day as she wended her way along the path that led eventually to the R.N.I.B shop.

 

This morning though, her life was to change again. Over night, heartless thieves had smashed into the picture framer's and stolen a number of customers valuable pictures.

As she made her way through the throng peering into the mess, she was taken aback to see the picture she had come to love, lying face down amongst the rubble and shattered glass. She pushed past a group of school children, panicking now for some bizarre reason. Maybe she was hoping the picture would be turned face up and she would find it had survived?

 

A grey, distinguished man was carefully picking through the pieces in the window, he looked up, looked straight into her eyes.

 

She was about to shout, ask him what had happened, then it dawned on her.

 

The window was broken, there was no barrier between them. She adjusted her voice, asked him.

 

"What happened, is the picture alright?"

 

He stopped, motionless for a second, then slowly turned the frame over.

 

"I'm sorry my dear, none of the pictures survived. But they left this old dusty mirror. Here, please, take it. I know how much you love it. I've seen you staring at it each morning."

 

She stopped breathing. Her mind was running in circles. She couldn't think, breathe.

"What do you mean...mirror..what..you've...you've seen me?"

 

" I watch you pass each day. If you'll forgive me, I've always long for the courage to stop you and ask your name. I should have sold this old place years ago but, well, you are the reason I stayed here. Now this has happened, I don't have the strength to start again, so I'll take my chances and do it. I'm asking you not only your name, but, well, if you'll join me for coffee, maybe lunch later?"

 

"But, the beautiful picture?"

 

Her mind still couldn't fit the pieces together, still she couldn't understand what he meant.

 

"I'm afraid the only beautiful thing here now is you. Please say you'll stay?"

 

She caught her breathe, slowly walked into the small, quaint shop, picked up the mirror and stared at the face that stared back.

 

Something inside of her stirred and a soft glow started to spread throughout her soul. Something she thought had died, something she had long ago buried in the ruins of her past, woke and started to live again.

 

"Yes. Yes please. I'd love that coffee, if you're ready."

Reviews

[joshua rainbird]

The simplicity of the language and repetition of sentence structure hinted at a fairy tale from the outset and therefore I guessed it was a mirror from about a third of the way in.
But the main strength of this piece is where its originality lies and that's in the commonplace nature of the settings and the characters. I particularly liked the woman being a divorcee and that she's chosen to work in a shop for the blind.
The dialogue at the end seems a little obvious as does the Prince Charming shopkeeper, so it needs a tweak to tighten it up.

However over all this is a charming tale and with a few nips and tucks it will smarten up nicely