The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.
But no.  Un-alone, her mirrored shadow had company in her pantomimic otherworld.  With the beckoning, tenebrous gloom, an apparition, dark and menacing, approached.  She shivered with delighted terror and settled in to watch.

Letter of Apology

Too sexy for my shirt...

Querida Doña,

I am sorry you thought my being perfect had anything to do with you.

Knowing what you want in the moment – easy.

Being what you want – harder.

Being that just for you – impossible.

Con afecto (pero non todo mi afecto) (soy quien soy, after all),

Don Juan