We both stood respectively in front of the long bathroom mirror. She at her sink, to my right and closest to the hand dryer, and me at mine. She leaned closer to the mirror as Alice did, before she feel into the looking glass. Into another world of wonder, and imagination...or LSD.
She took out a pink tube of lipstick, spread it on her lips and gave a final "smack" of approval.
"That man makes no sense," she said to her reflection or me, turned on her heels and walked out; not leaving a speck of dust behind her.
She had not spoken to me in three years. We were never friends and still aren't. But we do have a common dilemma, a common interest of hate for a certain class and teacher.
After I finished washing my hands, I gave a quick wipe on my shirt and pant legs and gave a closer look into the mirror to see what she could see. But I saw nothing of interest. She must have been talking to her reflection, I say to myself; and walk out back to class.
I think this story is not bad for my first short story. But it needs a better ending. Any suggestions?
-Kathleen
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