One Of Us Is Harmless

Three puddles sit before me: one gold, one blue, one black. I spy my reflections, warped in the puddle’s hues, beckoning me to enter their mysterious world.

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“Riches,” my golden reflection sings.

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“Here there’s beauty and wealth.”

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“Dance among the stars,” counters blue. “Here there is magic.”

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I consider the choices as I turn to the last puddle. I see no reflection of myself in the still water, but a deep need calls me to the edge. I hear my other selves cry in despair as I tip toward the inky surface. I fall forward and disappear without a ripple.