mirrors & gingerbread

I’m a mansion. It’s owned by the family of a high school friend. I find my way into the bathroom. It’s similar to a grimy bathroom in a Vietnamese Bia Hoi. It’s oddly out-of-place in this fancy home, but it feels familiar — I have been here before. I find my reflection in the mirror. I stare into it and make faces, but the face gazing back at me doesn’t follow the facial expressions I know I’m making.

– – –

A man yells, “The gates are open, come on in.” He’s referring to the Enchanted Forest amusement park that I used to go to as a kid. It’s overgrown with weeds. There are people walking around inside and exploring the ruins. All the fairy-tale houses and characters are there, like the witches house in Hansel & Gretel and the Gingerbread Man, and they are all in disrepair. I used to sneak into the park as a teenager through a hole in the fence, it feels odd to be allowed in. ♨

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