Magic Glass Slab

Best reality check? The mirror.

It happened a week ago when my teacher walked up to me. "You're sellable," she said, as if I were an object, or gizmo, or whatever, which made me wonder why she said it.

"Sellable?" I echoed, clueless.

She frowned and wiggled a finger. "You should know what being sellable is, young man." I gave her a nice shrug for an answer. "You want to be a manager--climb up the corporate ladder, right?" She locked her gaze onto mine, but I froze and couldn't reply. "Right?" she emphasized that word, as if saying, 'You should know, ignorant.'

Time to lie, I guess. "Yes. I know."

"Good," she said, relaxing. "Because you're good looking, tall, and your accent is cute. That makes you sellable."

"Really?" I asked, still thinking she was lying.

She gave me a vigorous nod, accompanied by a grin, confirming I was indeed good looking, tall, and with a cute accent.

When I got home that night, I rushed to the bathroom and took a long stare at myself in the mirror, trying to find my new-found ‘good lookingness’ and ‘tallness.’ "Hello mirror," I said in a low tone, emphasizing my cute accent.

To my surprise, the mirror made a noise. "You're ugly," the shiny glass said. "Yes, you're tall but have this pronounced belly." If mirrors could frown, this one did. "And your accent?" The mirror scoffed, tarnishing a bit. "Nobody understands what you're saying."

I reached the wall, turned off the lights, and went back to the crystal slab. "You were saying?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.

"I can see you," the mirror sang.