REFRACTION

By Allison Cross

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The last guests were leaving. Only a few friends left.

The counter was cluttered with empty bottles, crushed cigarettes, stacks of dishes. She filled the sink, let the plates disappear under the suds. What she wouldn’t give for a bath. She’d finish cleaning up, take her lover to bed. They’d fall asleep with his head on her chest.

She reached for a wine glass and glanced at the bay windows stretching the length of the room. Just a glance.

The black night. The mirrored windows reflecting her life—the elegant home, the tasteful art, the remnants of a party. Lingering friends, the hum of low conversation. A power couple. A love story.

She blinked.

And the blink sharpened the shadows.

Her lover stood beside the DJ table, a hundred feet away. He thought he was hidden. But the window, a mirror, showed her what was real.

The girl was flat against the wall. He was pressed against her. Her hands pulled his head to her breasts.

The wine glass in her hand shattered when she saw the girl’s face.

His brother’s wife.

“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”

His brother. Standing beside her. Searching for his wife.

His back to the reflection burning her eyes.

She focused on his face.

Be still, heart.

She had a choice.

Pack a bag and leave in the morning.

Or turn this man to face the mirror—

And allow a murder to happen tonight.