Home for flash fiction. A place for excellent tiny stories that capture something much larger. A single frame of a moving picture. Microfiction between 100 & 1000 words, any genre.
She looked into the mirror. Could barely recognise herself. Age has a way of transforming a face. The lines and the gaunt structure with sunken eyes stared back at her. But she still found beauty in it. Her eyes shone softly, and a warm smile danced around her lips. She swirled her brush in some pink powder blush and blushed her cheeks softly. She looked at her collection of lipsticks on the dresser and decided today she’ll go with red, her mother’s go-to shade. Her mother always looked lovely in her red lipstick, and as she painted her lips with the creamy red satin, she felt that she did too.
She smiled in the mirror and thought, well, she just looked like her mother’s doppelgänger.
Home for flash fiction. A place for excellent tiny stories that capture something much larger. A single frame of a moving picture. Microfiction between 100 & 1000 words, any genre.
Straight to the point, beautifully composed! Many people say I look like my brothers. While I personally don't see it, as I age, the occasional glimpse in the mirror indicates that they're probably right in some way.
I can understand this sentiment! I’ve always looked like my own mom’s doppelgänger too! It’s best noticeable when you compare pictures of us at the same age—terrifying!
