Mirror Lands

Why is it that I am always rushing in the morning in an attempt to make it to work on time? I know — I’m sure — I set my alarm correctly to give me ample time to shower, get dressed, pack and have breakfast. But I always end up scrambling to pack my bag and rush out the door, munching on a banana and trying not to spill my coffee from my travel cup.

Maybe it was the way the hot shower stream was hitting just right on my strained neck and upper back that made me lose track of time. Most likely, it was the fact that I snoozed my alarm too many times, finding it hard to open my eyes after reading into late hours of the night yesterday.

I clumsily step over books, an empty plate takeout boxes from last night’s dinner still on the floor of my tiny living room and a plush blanket I used to wrap around myself as I had sunk to the hard wooden slats, engrossed in whatever stories I was reading. And was now stepping over hurriedly, the book still open on the page I had fallen asleep on.

The hot liquid sloshes dangerously in my travel cup as I rush to the elevator before the door closes. “Hold the elevator!”

I make it to the door and stumble inside, a grateful smile on my face when I recognize my neighbour. “Thanks, Tony, you saved my morning. I am so late.”

He gives me a devilish smile and winks at me. Damn, he’s hot. Blushing, I straighten my backpack that’s heavy with books and has slipped off a shoulder in my little, ungraceful jog and try not to stare at him as I make sure my coffee is still inside the travel cup.

I venture a peek at him under my lashes. How does he look so good and put together every morning? He looks like he’s been put through an ironing press whole, with a crisp white shirt and black slacks. His muscled chest and arms seem to be struggling to stay inside his clothes, especially the one straining to hold on to what I can only assume is his gym bag. His perfectly styled blond hair frames his sharp jawline and highlights his devastatingly plump lips. It’s really unfair how a man can have lips like that, they look like they belong in an ad for lip fillers.

Meanwhile, I am wearing a knee-length denim sundress because it’s one of my “no ironing needed” clothing items that is easy to pair with white sneakers, the only shoes I wear because they’re always at hand and simply just easy to pair with anything. My half-up ponytail hides the fact that I have not brushed my unruly brown hair and my rose tinted lip balm is the only make-up I’m wearing. If it can even be considered make-up. I really only had time for the essentials like brushing my teeth and putting on sunscreen. Combined with the half-eaten banana in one hand and a travel cup in the other, I look like a struggling circus juggler.

“Busy morning?”

Shit, I realise I’m still staring at him, probably like a psychopath, with my head bent down toward my travel cup, ogling up through my lashes.

I let out a breathy laugh and straighten, trying to look like less of a psychopath. “You could say that!” Lies, but why would I tell this perfectly put together man that I stayed up until three in the morning reading about tall, muscled men that turn into dragons and would destroy their world for their women instead of sleeping?

The elevator dings on the ground floor and I get out. Tony stays inside, he’s heading down to the garage to get to his car. I don’t drive. I can barely afford my rent, so I rented out my parking spot to one of my neighbours who needed extra space for his wife’s car.

“Have a good day, Tony!”

“You too, neighbour!”

I don’t think he knows my name. Sighing, I head outside and make my way to the tram stop. I should try to talk to him sometime instead of just staring.

Pushing thoughts of Tony to the back of my head, I toss the banana peel in the trash and sit on the little bench sipping my coffee, thinking through the day ahead. Scrolling through my emails, I instantly spot five separate emails from my supervisor Silvie, asking me to pull some books for her latest research assignment. The fact that they were all sent within about ten minutes of each other, tells me that this woman is just as disorganised in her thoughts as I am. I smile at that. Great minds and all that.

As soon as I graduated from University with my History degree, I beelined for the assistant researcher job at the Stormgate Central Library. Working at this library was the only reason I attended University in Stormgate, while most students came for the parties or the prestigious athletics programs. Ok, maybe the library wasn’t my only reason, the parties are great, the city is beautiful and I can honestly not complain about the athletics programs. It makes for great eye candy and delicious hookups. But the idea of spending my days reading and learning about people and different perspectives on life, about other countries and their histories and cultures, about how things work and what nature, as well as technology has given us, excites me more than anything. I’ve always had this curiosity in me to learn as much as possible about the world I live in, but obviously I also love to lose myself in a good fantasy book, imagining it’s me slaying demons and having powerful kings fall in love with me. Both of these instances are very much fiction, since I cannot run to save my life and love is an illusion. I find it very hard to believe that a person would put their whole life on the line for someone else. I am under no delusion that a man who looks at me with interest and lust wants anything more than a quick and dirty hookup and I am well protected against anyone who might imply that they want more.

More. I scoff at the thought. What more is there? Disappointment and pain are the only two emotions that more makes me think of. Everyone leaves.

I note all of the books Silvie requested on my to-do list and check my text messages. There are three more book requests from Silvie that I add to the list and a few messages from Lyra making sure I don’t forget that I promised we’d go out tonight to celebrate her new job and asking me what I’m wearing.

The reminder of Lyra’s success at finding a job makes pride swell in my chest. Finding a job in Stormgate is not easy, especially if you attended one of those prestigious athletic programs like Lyra did. These students are usually sponsored by professional teams, having secured placements well before they graduate. But Lyra wanted to work in sports management, even though she would have been able to secure multiple sponsorships during her University years. She’s strong, quick and agile, having majored in combat sports. But good for her for following her own path instead of the one being thrown at her feet. I know how easy it can be to be swept away by promises only to find out that promises can and will be broken. Better to stick to your own instincts and rely on yourself.

The tram arrives and I get on, finding a seat easily. Stormgate is nestled in the estuary of the river Crest, surrounded by the sea on all sides, except one, where green fields and forests envelop the outskirts of the city.

It’s not a big city, divided by only three districts. The aptly named river Crest spirals in through the city, toward the central inner lake. It’s more of a pond really, with all of the construction that encroached on it throughout the years. The whole city looks like a blue spiral from above. It’s very cute. The central part of the spiral is the inner city, where the main shopping streets are, the best bars, the office buildings and my library. The rich citizens live in condos or houses closest to the sea, where a marina encircles the city. The lively restaurants and wide boardwalks make it my favourite place to be.

But I live in the apartment buildings on the side with no sea views. The research assistant job does not pay me enough to live by the sea, but it does allow me to live by myself, in my own little one-bedroom apartment. I was so proud of myself when I got the job and was able to move out of my shared apartment with Lyra and two other university students. We also went out to celebrate then, not that we needed a reason to. Lyra and I can always find reasons to go out and party.

The tram clatters along on the bridge over the Crest while I sip my coffee and look out the window. I actually enjoy the tram rides to get to where I need to go. I’ve never felt the need to own a car in this city. It gives me time to enjoy the scenery instead of being stuck in traffic and stressed out about parking. The central part of the city is so old that amenities to accommodate modern conveniences, like cars, are almost non-existent. Not that I could afford to rent out a parking spot in one of the newer buildings.

So I stare out the window, sighing and marvelling at how the sun makes the water on the Crest sparkle and how nice it would be to be able to afford an apartment at least in one of the buildings by the river. I squint harder as the sun painfully reflects into my eyes and pull out my sunglasses. On second thought, maybe living by the river and having the sun constantly reflected into your house might be too much. I don’t even remember the sun being so harsh, especially at eight in the morning.

I pull my arm across my eyes because it’s getting too much, but we arrive at the other side of the river and immediate relief washes over me when the buildings on either side of the street block out the sun. Damn, that was painful. And weird, I’m not even hungover, but it felt like it. Maybe just tired eyes reacting to too much morning light.

The tram stops at the next station, my eyes just starting to re-adjust, when the whole street starts to get brighter by the second. I still have my sunglasses on and start to blink rapidly to try to lessen the pain of the jarring light, but I find myself needing to close my eyes when it starts to get too much. Light penetrates through my scrunched up eyelids, so I press them closed harder and lift my arm to my eyes, dislodging my sunglasses.

Screams sound on the street, people panicking and car alarms blaring from all around. I feel the need to get up and help but being unable to open my eyes, I don’t know what I could do. The light and noise are overwhelming my senses, my breaths coming in short bursts. I feel helpless. I lower my body to the floor between the tram seats and press my forehead against my knees to try to completely block out the blinding light and attempt to control my breathing. As soon as I can get that controlled, I can figure out what to do next. But my senses are on overdrive and getting my breathing back to normal is proving harder than I thought. I have never felt so powerless to help myself out of a situation and I’ve been in many sticky situations before. But what can I do against blinding light? The heaviness of panic paralyses me to the spot.

Just as quickly as the light came it fades away. I know it’s gone because the screams have died down and no more brightness is seeping through the folds in my clothes. It’s finally dark. But I don’t move, still paralysed to the spot. In the back of my mind I realise I need to do something, I need to get up, to breathe. Unwilling to open my eyes, I use my other senses to concentrate on my surroundings. I listen. I can still hear panicked people on the street, but no one is screaming anymore. Car alarms are still going off, but as people come back to their senses, they turn them off. I can hear voices closer to me from the other people in the tram. The tram door dings open. Footsteps on the tram floor.

“Are you ok?” A deep, masculine voice. A voice that is directed at me. Slowly, I open my eyes and look up. The movement makes me dizzy and my sight is blurry, probably from almost being blinded by the sun just now.

“What the hell just happened?” My words come out in one long breath, but I don’t care. I’m still half-paralyzed to my spot and to be honest, I don’t feel like getting up in case the sun decides to attempt an apocalypse again.

I blink rapidly, trying to focus. A man is crouching in front of me but I can only make out a large silhouette. Light hair, white shirt, black trousers.

“I’m not sure. But this vehicle is broken, so we need to evacuate.”

Oh, he’s probably the tram driver, that makes sense. The silhouette of his hand reaches out toward me and I take it. Warmth radiates up my arm as soon as our hands touch. My hand is engulfed in his large one as he closes it over mine. In one strong swoop, I am pulled upright. Still dizzy and blinking away the fuzziness, I sway dangerously and grab his arm with my other hand. Unnecessary, I realise as his other large hand clutches my waist and pulls me slightly closer.

My breath catches. I stop blinking and look up.

I manage to make out sharp green eyes looking back down at me. He must be trying to see if I’m injured - or sane - because the intensity of his stare is doing nothing for my dizziness. While my auditory and visual senses are slowly coming back to normal, my tactile senses are suddenly on overdrive. His warmth is seeping through my whole body making me buzz and we are standing so close together I swear I can feel it envelop me whole.

“Are you ok?” He asks again, his deep voice is now tinged with concern. I can make out his eyes scanning my face.

“I need some air.” I can honestly not formulate any other sentences or thoughts while this close to this warmth-radiating man. I push past him, suddenly needing more than just air.

The tram is already empty, to my embarrassment. I stumble through the aisle to the tram door, very aware of how gracelessly I am bumping my hips against the seats in my hurry to get out. As soon as I am outside, I take in lungfuls of air, hoping to get my senses in order again.

The street is in chaos, but nothing seems to be damaged structurally. People are milling around the street, some sitting on sidewalks still recovering, and cycle-responders are starting to arrive to help those who seem to have been more affected. I know I am only a couple of minutes walk from the library and that would probably be the best place to wrap my head around what just happened and find more information.

“Can I help you get somewhere?” The deep gravel of the tram driver’s tone trickles down my spine and I suppress a shiver as he approaches me from behind. I have to admit, the tram company has some dedicated staff. My sight is still slightly fuzzy, but I can make out most outlines of people and buildings. I’m sure I can get to the library in one piece.

I turn around to face him. “It’s ok, I can almost see everything again. I’m only about ten minutes away from my destination.”

His stare is so intense I almost think he’s trying to look into my soul. Joke’s on him though, my soul and heart have been encased in strong, tall walls since I was eight. Nevertheless, his stare makes me shiver. Weird, it must be an aftershock or something. The driver’s eyes skate down my body in response. I can see a little clearer now and notice his strong, muscled arms and shoulders. His white shirt is loose and billowy but I can make you a sculpted chest underneath. Damn, I love this city with the prestigious athletics University programs. So much eye candy. I look back up at his face, not wanting to repeat the psycho-staring I did to Tony in the elevator this morning, but stop short when I realise just how beautiful this man is. Chiselled jaw, straight nose, thin lips. Damn.

“Thanks for your help. I’ll be ok getting to work.” I spin around and start walking down the street, suddenly needing some space before I climb this man like a tree.

“Wait. Let me walk with you” Seriously? This is getting a bit stalkery. I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s ok, like I said, I’m fine and I’ll be at work in ten minutes. I’m sure you need to get back to your tram and wait for maintenance or something.”

He suddenly stops in his tracks, but I keep going. “Again, thank you for your concern, have a good day!” I call over my shoulder.