The Mirror

A Short Story

His image stood there for a moment in the mirror that was leaning against the wall in the mostly cluttered basement. Paintings he had created in his youth hung on the dusty concrete walls. He looked around at the accumulation of belongings and things that needed to be thrown away years ago. His image lingered for a moment longer then was gone.

Rain had begun to fall outside as the first car pulled up in front of the house, its lights turn off as the occupants, dressed in black and muted colors got out with their heads down. Other cars pulled up to the house with lights burning before being diminished. Black umbrellas silently danced in the darkening air as rain began to fall in earnest.

It was quiet inside the house. People gathered in small groups and spoke in whispers and low tones. A woman cried out and began sobbing. Others found tears growing and falling to the wooden floor. Without being noticed she walked to the basement door and looked down into the darkness before turning on the light. The steps creaked as she made her way down. She looked across the basement and saw father’s artwork on the walls. A tear fell from her eye. She then saw the mirror leaning against the wall and saw her image. A small sigh escaped her breath. She looked so much like him…