I had grown up always listening to my grandfather’s bedtime stories. Lying between him and my grandmother, each story had always been funnier than the last and sometimes, just sometimes, eerier than the last.

“You see,” he would pause, “The only time I ever see her smile is when she’s behind me in the mirror.” My grandmother would shush him, and I would hide under the covers and promptly go to sleep. His stories of this doting yet quarrelsome couple has put me right to sleep many-a-night; partly due to his soothing voice and predominantly due to fear.

My grandfather would often get reflective and pause every time he passed by the ornate mirrors that adorn the hallway of my grandparents' home.  For a long time, that had been a part of my expectation. That, your true love would be behind your mirror.

Until one day changed it all.

I had just come back from work, my day job took up most of my hours, as being a store manager was stressful amidst the pandemic. Virus-scared civilians mostly rushed up and down the aisles, looking down at their ever-growing grocery lists, adding items that seemed to be in shortage, or in excess.

After my final ‘goodbyes’ and ‘stay safes’ I couldn’t even recognise my own face anymore, crumpled painfully upright like a missed paper toss at the school bins. Eyes squinted with my smile lines being etched tight into my skin, I looked more artificial than real.

I hastily wiped my face down with the corner of my now undone cuff, pushing any stray strands of hair away and fixing my glasses.  Out of nowhere, I smirked. My face had a slight smirk on it, while my eyes were fixed on the mirror on my desk.

I snapped back into reality when I realised I had zoned out of focus. But how were my thoughts not scrambled? No one zones out with a steady thought flow.

“The woman behind the mirror is always with you; she holds your smiles and your deepest fears,” has been my grandfather’s frequent story-ending line. I smiled at my tainted mirror, a fully genuine and kind one.

She gave one back. I winked and got up, feeling a little more energetic to have bonded with my ‘mirror self’. I chuckled as I weaved my fingers through my hair. Geez, how lonely did I get? I should go out tonight.

Putting the kettle on the stove, I quickly changed into casual jeans, dialing my friend Jessica’s cell while setting the table.

-          On call:

‘Heylo, what’s up Katie?’

‘Nothing much, pretty bored, what ‘bout you?’

‘Well, I’ll be taking some ‘pretty’ pictures for the Birdwatch.’

‘Lucky bugggg! Well, I think I’ll drive over to help.’

‘You’d do that?’

‘Of course, see you in 10.’

‘See you! Will WhatsApp the location.”

‘Alright!’

-          At Jessica’s location:

‘Heya! We’re taking pictures of (butterflies?!) insects?’

‘Yeah, but these are magpies, so they’re more like birds, ha-ha.’

‘Oh, I thought you had to do pretty things’

‘Magpies *are* pretty when they carry… shiny things?’

‘Well, say that to the person they took it from’

She chuckled as a magpie swiftly glided above us. Clicking open my camera, I zoomed into the low-flying bird, noticing a very bright ring between its claws. God bless their bank account  *click*  the flash went off as the bird scattered in a different direction, dropping the shiny emerald on the ground.

I looked past my shoulder to see Jessica nowhere in sight. Maybe she went hunting for them on the other side of this place. I  got down and slowly picked up the ring, my reflection flashing past my face.

Except, it looked like someone was behind me.

I turned around to only see Jessica’s arms flailing up and down and excitedly pointing at her camera. Huffing, I got up on one knee, secretly glad to have been re-acquainted with her… this place was giving me some dark vibes.

“I caught this magpie hovering over a street band! I can name this piece as, ‘magpie around a bagpipe!’ ’’ she laughed.

‘That sounds good, hey random question, does this land belong to you?’

‘Of course not, silly. This place is cordoned temporarily by the magazine to get the best view of bird-life.’

I shook my head and laid back on the cobblestone, the emerald glinting off my thumb.

Green emeralds with a diamond embedded between them. Hold on a second…

I quickly switched on my phone and went into my gallery. This is the same ring that sits on my  grandparents' mantlepiece, THIS was my grandmother’s ring.

I began sweating. My grandmother has not been around since 1991. Was it her?

“The woman behind the mirror is always with you; she holds your smiles and your deepest fears.”