Rather proud she had driven the nail into the plasterboard with nary a crack to show for the effort, she removed the heavy, gilt-framed mirror from the packing crate and made to hang it in the entryway of her new home.
For the briefest of moments, she contemplated its reflective surface and found she was not at all pleased by the face staring back at her. The woman she saw there looked, by turns, tired, beleaguered, uncertain, confused and forlorn.
How apt a metaphor this seemed for the life, if such it could be called, she had left behind her with all of its attendant baggage and far too many mementos seeming to have followed in her wake.
How much like that mirror he had been; never seeing her but merely making of her a reflection of his own anxiety, fears, shortcomings and foibles as if, in so doing, he could feel more confident in himself by making of her all of the things he saw when he dared to look in the mirror.
This story was written for the weekly Five Sentence Fiction flash fiction prompt: beauty.