Of course you know what happens next in these stories. She was seen, carried, and taken home with great rejoicing. She was given a new coat of paint, which made her frame look like lace. Proudly she hung in a spot all her own on the living room wall.
Until tragedy struck.
A broom, innocently set against the wall by the person who had cared for her, slid down the wall. It all happened so fast. She tried to hold onto her anchoring nail, but the fatal blow had been dealt. She crashed to the hard, cruel floor.
Her heart was broken.
So was her face.
She remembered no more.
Only a few pictures impressed themselves on her delirium. Vaguely, she felt pulled and poked.
(Another narrator's note: Sharon, do you recognize a few things?) :)
Today, our brave little mirror is not a mirror any more. But she is back in her very own spot on the living room wall, happier than ever. Her new life has just begun.