As I look in the mirror above the sink in my bathroom, I see a woman I don't recognize, the somber woman is strange to me.
Her normally fluffy, loud curly hair, is demurely styled. No colorful hair clips, in the shapes of butterflies. No sparkly hair ties, with little pony tails sticking out.
Her makeup instead of bright happy shades was muted, with dull colors. The normal fire engine red lipstick was a mauve color.
The outfit was on the total opposite end of the spectrum, then the norm for me. She was wearing black dress slacks and with a black tank top covered by a sheer black shirt; with gold minute designs running down the front.
Tears formed in her eyes as I took a step closer, taking my hand and softly running down her face, she did the same...wait...it was me. I back up, this wasn't me, these dark colors, the hair, none of it. Then it came back to me, my brother, Vic, he was dead.
I began sobbing letting it all out, the anger at the sonovabitch for dying on me, and anger at myself for never apologizing before he died. The tears fell faster as I fell to the floor, my forehead resting upon the cold tile.
I laid there, for what seemed like days, letting all of it out. I sniffled a few times sitting up and grabbing a wash cloth from the basket on my sink. Wetting it in the sink I washed my face. Enough crying, my family was waiting. I pulled my makeup out from back under the sink and re applied everything. Snapping the lipstick tube shut, I tossed it in my case and smiled at the picture sitting on my counter.
It was of me and Vic one Christmas, sitting on the couch as Micheal took our picture. I blew a kiss at him.
"I'll see you again baby brother." I walked out, softly closing my door and went down stairs to my family.