Wells Penn

Eva pushed through the large wooden door, escaping from the harsh weather as rain poured down, each fat droplet splattering on the street, small rivers forming in the cracks between the cobblestones. She looked down at her soaked shoes just as the door thumped shut behind her, the sound of the rain peppering the stone road outside coming to an abrupt halt. She took a deep breath, content to finally be out of the rain, now in the warm embrace of being inside a store.

She finally looked up into the small shop she had never recalled seeing before and was amazed at what she saw. Large shelves were filled with oddities of all colors, sizes, and shapes. She took a moment to assess the items nearest her: a jar filled with skulls of some kind of rodent, scrolls and quills that shimmered strangely, and a barrel filled with brooms.

She turned toward the back of the room to try to identify a theme and saw an empty checkout counter. She started toward the rear of the shop, passing more oddities: a bundle of herbs, massive mushrooms, yarn and thread that glowed brighter as she approached. The floorboards creaked with each step, and the scent of paper and dust made her head spin.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps, and a stout older woman with a soft face and gentle smile came out from the back room.

“Welcome, welcome! A new face always makes my day,” she said, arms waving enthusiastically.

“I’m sorry to barge in—the rain started coming down hard,” Eva said sheepishly, knowing she didn’t have the kind of money that buys such oddities.

“Don’t be silly! You are more than welcome. Take your time—there’s something here for everyone.”

Eva nodded politely and took another look around the shop. As she moved, she felt a presence and turned to see the woman watching her eagerly.

“You know, people who come in here are always in need of something they don’t realize yet. I bet you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll definitely keep looking!” Eva said, feigning excitement.

But just as she spoke, she turned and saw a reflection on a shelf in the corner. She approached and saw the most beautiful and ornate hand mirror she had ever seen. She picked it up and examined it closely. It was silver with ribbons of colored metals, pearls, and tiny glittering stones. And in the reflection was her face—but not as she was now. It was her, aged, facing away and looking toward something in the distance.

“Ah yes! That will show a reflection of something that hasn’t yet come true. It will stay true if you are on the right path, and show you what may happen if you choose a path that differs,” the woman said.

Eva heard her words as if through a sea of fog, so engrossed was she in what she was seeing.

“I’ll take it.”

“Give it here! I’ll pack it up for you. Won’t cost you a penny—my treat for a first-time customer.”

Eva didn’t respond, just followed the woman toward the counter as she tried to wrap her head around what had been said. The woman folded the mirror delicately in a piece of cloth and put it in a bag.

“Now, girl, listen. You can use this as a tool to help you make choices along the way. But heed my words: those who obsess about what they could change can get lost in their reflection. Don’t forget to live your life.”

Eva nodded and grabbed the bagged mirror, then turned toward the door. As she approached the exit into the street, the rain had eased into a soft drizzle. She considered what the woman hadn’t known: she was ill, diagnosed with only a month to live. Yet she had seen herself older, smiling, and lined with wrinkles.

She opened the door and stepped out, pulling the bag close to her chest. The street glistened under the dim glow of the lamps. She exhaled slowly, letting the crisp air wash over her, and felt an unfamiliar lightness in her chest. She glanced down at the mirror, the ornate silver glinting even in the dim light, and for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a small, genuine smile.

For a moment, she simply stood there, letting the drizzle dampen her hair and the quiet street absorb the tension in her shoulders. The world seemed softer somehow, filled with possibility rather than dread. The mirror had shown her more than her reflection—it had shown her a life she could still embrace, even in the face of uncertainty.

With a deep breath, Eva started walking home, the bag held close, but her steps lighter than they had been in weeks. Each puddle she stepped around seemed less like an obstacle and more like a shimmer of potential, reflecting the soft light above. For the first time, she felt a flicker of hope. The future, once a shadow pressing down on her chest, now felt like a story she had the power to write, one choice at a time.

And for the first time in a long while, Eva felt ready to live.