Elizabeth’s Mirror
Kitty, kitty, where are you - she whispered.
Elizabeth caught herself rethinking the idea of buying an autonomous vehicle. She sits in the passenger seat while the car smoothly drives her to her garage. She hates the garage. Strange feeling. She has had a car for five months now, and still, she is not used to sitting alone in the car while it is moving without interaction.
As she unlocked the doors, she quietly heard a silky voice — meow. Harry, his cat, pretends he is bored. Elizabeth took her high-hill shoes. Before, she used a pair of sneakers in her car to drive so her legs were slightly rested when she got home.
She is not hungry. Harry is, for sure. He is always hungry. Taking a bag of cat food out of the bag, she looked around where Harry was.
Kitty, kitty, where are you — she whispered.
Harry suddenly appeared out of nowhere and started eating. She took her clothes off and walked around just in her lingerie, thinking if it was a good idea to take a long bath in the evening or shower right now.
I will do it later. Elizabeth likes reading in the bath.
She is turning on the stereo in the living room, choosing some easy-listening music. The right choice for having some mental rest after four meetings she had that day.
Her iPad is on the brown leather armchair. From time to time, she felt a pang of guilt because of that chair, telling herself — it was already made. You just bought it.
Some Facebook, some Instagram, and evening come. She took a book to the bathroom and filled the bath with hot water.
Two hours after that, she got out of the bath.
Covering herself with a towel, she slowly, very slowly, walks to the opposite side of the bathroom.
She looked in the mirror. She saw a lady in her late eighties.
For one millisecond, one thought stroked her mind.
Fucking dementia, she yelled while Harry was around her legs.
