standing on the edge...

she walked into the bathroom and pushed the door closed behind her. from under the sink, she pulled the yellow stool on which were painted the words "to reach the things i couldn't and lots of things i shouldn't." one by one, she lifted her socked feet onto the stool. on tippy toes her fingertips barely reached the edge of the double-sided mirror her mother had hung there. earlier in the day she had watched her mother carefully outline and fill in the shapes of her eyebrows while gazing into the magnifying side of the mirror. she had followed her mother from her parents' bedroom to the door of the bathroom and watched her mother return the mirror to the hook on the back of the door, where it belonged; now nudging the thin metal foot of the mirror minutely higher and finally over the hook, the cool metal frame fell slightly and then was cradled in the crook between her pointer finger and her thumb. she hopped down from the stool and shooshed it back under the sink with her heel. opening the door with one hand, she stopped at the threshold. the tiles were cold under the soles of her socks. she stood as if on the edge of a wide crevasse. her tiny body wobbled back and forth...swaying in an imaginary breeze. holding the mirror out in front of her, she could only see the reflection of the ceiling, she baby stepped down the hallway. she imagined this was what it would feel like if the world turned upside down.

...but she was wrong.