Minnian tries to survive everyday life. It goes okay. Maybe not. She can't quite bring herself to care.
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[Realistic Fiction] This Side of the Mirror
- Thread starter Lowlife Schmuck
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Statistics (1 threadmarks, 510 words)
User Total Lowlife Schmuck 1 Threadmarks Reader mode
Chapter 1
New
Lowlife Schmuck
Your first time is always over so quickly, isn't it?
- Joined
- Feb 10, 2024
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The whir of a bathroom fan buzzed in Minnian's ears. Her hair felt sticky against her neck. Water dripped from her back and soaked into the mat.
She wiped a streak in the blurry mirror, just enough to see her face. Faded pink bangs stuck damp to her forehead, and she pushed them back when it started to itch. The fluorescent light stung her eyes, and she blinked.
She flexed a hand. It was soggy and wrinkled. She inhaled through her mouth. It was wet and cooled against the back of her throat, and when she swallowed, it felt like she was drinking air. Maybe she was.
Felt real enough. Looks like she was awake, unfortunately.
She pulled her phone from the pile of yesterday's clothes on the toilet. The screen glowed faintly in her hand—6:50. Plenty of time.
A knock on the door almost made Minnian drop the thing; Mom's usual way of telling her she took too long in the shower.
"Just a sec," Minnian called, but her voice was barely audible under the drone of the fan. Not that it mattered. She was lying and they both would have known it.
She sighed—more out of habit than frustration—and pulled the old towel from the rack on the wall. She pressed it against her face, slowly inhaling the filtered air.
Maybe that smell was grass. Maybe that constant humming was rain.
She exhaled. The rain was gone; it was just her and the fan and a soggy rag.
Minnian glanced at her phone—6:57. Plenty of time. She opened her writing app and typed out the morning to the best of her memory.
The whir of a bathroom fan buzzed in Minnian's ears. Her hair felt sticky against her neck. Water dripped from her back and soaked into the—
Ah. 6:58. Crap.
Minnian put her phone down and finished up her routine drying. The condensation began to clear, and she could make out a little bit more Minnian in the mirror.
She pulled out the blow-dryer and hopped on the counter. It flicked on, and the fan became a whisper under its roar. Minnian could almost pretend she didn't have to leave.
She leaned her back against the wall-length mirror, slowly kicking her legs back and forth as warmth buffeted her scalp.
A loud bang rattling the door made her yelp. The dryer clattered hard in the sink, and Minnian's ears stung.
"Huli ka na!"
"I'm almost done!" Minnian shot back, and she knew Mom could hear her this time. She hurriedly hopped down, unplugged the dryer mid-buzz, threw the unwound mess in the drawer and slammed it shut.
Her hand chilled against the doorknob. She glanced at the mirror—hair frizzy at the ends, slick at the roots, and damp everywhere in between.
Good enough.
Minnian flicked the light off and opened the door without another glance.
It clicked shut, leaving a pile of dirty clothes and a cellphone to lay forgotten on the toilet.
7:01.
She wiped a streak in the blurry mirror, just enough to see her face. Faded pink bangs stuck damp to her forehead, and she pushed them back when it started to itch. The fluorescent light stung her eyes, and she blinked.
She flexed a hand. It was soggy and wrinkled. She inhaled through her mouth. It was wet and cooled against the back of her throat, and when she swallowed, it felt like she was drinking air. Maybe she was.
Felt real enough. Looks like she was awake, unfortunately.
She pulled her phone from the pile of yesterday's clothes on the toilet. The screen glowed faintly in her hand—6:50. Plenty of time.
A knock on the door almost made Minnian drop the thing; Mom's usual way of telling her she took too long in the shower.
"Just a sec," Minnian called, but her voice was barely audible under the drone of the fan. Not that it mattered. She was lying and they both would have known it.
She sighed—more out of habit than frustration—and pulled the old towel from the rack on the wall. She pressed it against her face, slowly inhaling the filtered air.
Maybe that smell was grass. Maybe that constant humming was rain.
She exhaled. The rain was gone; it was just her and the fan and a soggy rag.
Minnian glanced at her phone—6:57. Plenty of time. She opened her writing app and typed out the morning to the best of her memory.
The whir of a bathroom fan buzzed in Minnian's ears. Her hair felt sticky against her neck. Water dripped from her back and soaked into the—
Ah. 6:58. Crap.
Minnian put her phone down and finished up her routine drying. The condensation began to clear, and she could make out a little bit more Minnian in the mirror.
She pulled out the blow-dryer and hopped on the counter. It flicked on, and the fan became a whisper under its roar. Minnian could almost pretend she didn't have to leave.
She leaned her back against the wall-length mirror, slowly kicking her legs back and forth as warmth buffeted her scalp.
A loud bang rattling the door made her yelp. The dryer clattered hard in the sink, and Minnian's ears stung.
"Huli ka na!"
"I'm almost done!" Minnian shot back, and she knew Mom could hear her this time. She hurriedly hopped down, unplugged the dryer mid-buzz, threw the unwound mess in the drawer and slammed it shut.
Her hand chilled against the doorknob. She glanced at the mirror—hair frizzy at the ends, slick at the roots, and damp everywhere in between.
Good enough.
Minnian flicked the light off and opened the door without another glance.
It clicked shut, leaving a pile of dirty clothes and a cellphone to lay forgotten on the toilet.
7:01.