Every morning Eve woke up and looked into the mirror. She could see her wrinkles and crows feet. She looked at her image and told herself she’d be alright.
Eve was a particularly peculiar sort. She’d worked in an optometrist’s office for decades. She worried about her eyesight, she worried about getting older.
Eve had started having head aches. The sudden striking kind of head ache that makes a hypochondriac insane. She’d stopped watching television already, and stayed away from caffeine, just in case.
She looked in the mirror before she went to bed. She washed her face and went to lay down. She prayed out loud, asking for healing and help. She rang her hands together and folded her arms as she went to sleep.
Every day, it became more clear to her that she was sick. She looked in the mirror after having eggs for breakfast and saw something on her temple. Was it just the normal shadowing of her face or was it something else?
Every morning, every day, every evening, she looked at her reflection, she fussed over the shadow. She tried applying makeup over it. She tried ignoring it. She went to work with her hand over her face, out of fear someone could see that dark shadow on her head.
Poor Eve, she was a nervous wreck. Her friend, Bob, told her to stop. That she was driving herself insane with worry. That she would have a breakdown or a stroke if she continued. Bob couldn’t see it.
Eve got up to go get ready for a road trip one Saturday. She was going to take herself to the beach in hopes that she’d be able to relax. Eve walked into the bathroom, looked into the mirror and collapsed. She lay on the floor, crumpled up like an old paper sack.
Days later Bob broke into her apartment and found her dead. The autopsy report came in saying she had a tumor in her brain, on the right side, around her temple.
Years after having the idea for the story, Jamie Godwin finally wrote about it.