If It Were...

It began on a morning no different than any other: I woke to a subtle golden glow playing across the landscape of my room, the sirens wailing in the city like felines in heat and the air thick enough you could cut it with a butter knife. I reached clumsily to my nightstand and closed my hand upon a weeping glass, took a swig of what I hoped was water but was in fact a melted cocktail from Love-knows what bar I had stumbled home from the night before. After gagging down the remnants of yesterday's 'poison', I got to my feet and made my way to the washroom. I flicked on the one-bulb light and steadied myself on the vanity, my arms shaking with the combined weight of my upper body and a lifetime of poor decisions. Then I heard it; a voice similar to my own, but laced with a thick accent that was anything but familiar to me-

"What makes them poor?"

I looked up into my reflection, taken slightly aback but still too buzzed to come completely unglued. That is, until my reflection smiled, when I had not.

"I say, is it your judgment or someone else's," my reflection sneered at me through the spattered toothpaste and rust stains, "that decides what decisions are considered poor and which ones are not?"

Knowing I had not uttered these words aloud myself, nor was there anyone else (living, that is,) present in the apartment, I locked eyes with the sarcastic Shiva-esque being inside the glass, and prepared to retaliate with some witty comment of 'my' own. Just as the words began to form on my tongue, my mirror-self stepped back, and walked out of view. I stared, genuinely startled, at what was apparently my living quarters in some other dimension, void of myself and as inviting as a sunny day in Singapore. Curious, I lifted my hand, but just as I went to test the boundary between the two worlds, my reflection returned, fully dressed, looking fresh as a spring chicken.

"No, no," she quipped, taking to the toothbrush on her right, respectively my left. As if in a trance, I followed suit.

"No need to seem so taken aback, love," Reflection purred as I brushed the fuzz from my mouth, "You've seen yourself in worse condition than this and I can assure you, you will see yourself the same way again sooner or later. Follow suit now, and let's get on with it. We've got a mission to attend to."

I finished brushing as if in a daze, wandered into my closet and grabbed the first thing that grazed my hand. After dressing, I found myself back in front of my mirror, perfectly matching the more dapper version of myself waiting there. She smiled. I smiled. Finally, we seemed in time with one another.

"Right", I suddenly said, out of my own mouth this time. With a quick tussle of my hair and a quick slap on each cheek for color, I all but glided to the front door of my flat. After a moment's indecision, I slid my feet into my well-worn Mary Janes, slung my tattered mailbag over my shoulder and departed, turning to lock my door behind me. It was then that I was taken for the second time by the sound of my own voice, altered by it's curious accent:

"Truly, you needn't bother. But if it makes you feel better..."

I ignored the qualm, and made my way downstairs to the lobby of my building.

That is all I remember of that particular day.

I woke to a gloomy sky, growling at me through my window like some forlorn zoo animal dreaming of freedom. I had a heachache, and knew my quickest remedy lie in the bottom of the medicine drawer in my bathroom. On quivering legs I made my way, stumbling slightly over a dress I didn't remember wearing any time recently but nevertheless was lying discarded on the floor. I caught myself on my counter, just in time to see my reflection standing as if at attention, staring back at me. I didn't look directly at myself, but heard my own voice, raspier than usual, begin to speak.

"Get dressed, you waste of space. We've got work to do."

Addressing the challenge, I met eyes with myself. I looked tired, but determined. A certain fire gleamed in the depths of my pupils, surrounded as usual by the dull green of my irises. I noted the black eyeliner, smudged as if on purpose, but slightly lengthened down one cheek, as if I'd been crying.

"Yeah, you," Reflection snarled. A slight smirk played at the edges of my mouth, but her tone told me I was not in the joking mood. A quick overlook told me all black was the attire for the day, so I dressed quickly- a pair of leggings, an old boyfriend's shirt that, quite frankly, had always fit me better, and a pair of black Converse with holes in the soles. Without another word, I exited my apartment, only to return moments later for my forgotten pack of cigarettes.

That is all I remember of that particular day.

A shrill scream woke me suddenly, startling me from my slumber. I rolled from my bed to the floor, wrestled briefly with my sheets as I rose to my feet and prepared for battle. As I blinked myself into reality, I became aware of the female cowering in the corner of my apartment, grasping a blanket to her chest and pointing to the corner of the room.

"A mouse!" She shrieked, looking to me for assistance. Annoyed, I tossed a pillow her way, hoping to myself she'd use it to smother herself before the poor rodent, as he'd most likely of let me sleep. I maneuvered my still-drunk self to the bathroom and slammed the door behind me, turned on the light and was somewhat surprised to find myself waiting, perplexed, in the mirror.

"What do you want?" I asked Reflection while I sat down for a piss. Unable to see her, she waited until I was done. I returned to the mirror, meeting my own gaze with a bit of attitude. Reflection looked concerned.

"Got a problem out there, do we?"

I shrugged. Reflection, who was as stark naked as I, giggled, and turned away to her own closet. She returned with two outfits in her arms, a sparkling, flapper-esque number I'd worn two years prior for a costume party, and a plain blue-jean and t-shirt ensemble. As I pondered our next move, I noted the slamming of my apartment door. An air of relief fell over me, and Reflection laughed. Still on edge, I waited.

"I thought maybe I'd give you a choice today," my mirror-self finally said. I waited still.

"I've been thinking, what if I gave YOU the option, today? What if YOU get to decide our fate..."

What if, I thought, as I took in the two options before me. Three, if you included my birthday suit. What if...