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That Smile

The smile in the mirror didn't look like mine. I must've been pretending to be someone else, or perhaps just channeling some ever-cool dead guy's boyish grin and charm and slightly mischievous smirk. There was even a twinkle in my eye! Hell, my eyes never twinkle, except maybe when reflecting candles from the altar.

I breathed longly - or longingly, I'm not sure which - turned off the overhead light and got out of the car. Walking toward the door of the house took longer than it usually did. It was 17 steps to the porch - I'd counted - but it took me a minute or so to get there.

When I knocked there was no answer for several seconds. Knocked again.

She came to the door, and I smiled, "Hello, my love."

Her face was blank. No, not blank; puzzled slightly, a bit afraid, maybe, but not blank.

"Can I help you?" She kept the door ajar.

A man's voice came from behind her, "Who is it, honey?"

"I, um, don't know." Then to me, "Who are you. What do you want?"

I smiled at her again, the puzzlement mine this time. "Roxanne, what's going on; who's in there?"

"How do you know my... Look, I think you need to leave."

"Rox, what -"

A large, somewhat threatening man appeared over her shoulder. "What's the matter? What do you want?" To her, "Do you know this guy?"

She shook her head. "His smile is kinda familiar but, no, I've never seen him before."

Story by:

Bill Colclough

colcloughb@yahoo.com

6 June 2013