WHITE WILDFLOWERS

AURORA

“Drink.” A single word but yet, a powerful command. I looked at the glass of water-like liquid in my front and swallowed hard. I was seated in front of a dressing mirror that wasn’t mine, it was his. There wasn’t a fingerprint or a speck of dust on it and I wondered if he ever even used it.

I would be surprised if he wasn’t because if I were Adrian Storm, I wouldn’t be able to look away from a mirror. The glass was so clean and the frame was so wolf-representatively beautiful in its clashing colors of orange and black. On his high dressing table, a bit too high for me, was a brush with some strands of his hair in it, another small hand mirror with a similar style, a box of unused cigarettes, and a bottle of tequila at the far side. I was afraid it’d fall if I shook the table even a little bit.

But the most intimidating of everything present… was him, he was just behind me, grabbing the ears of his chair, almost pressing his body close to mine and I