The pool party had long since ended, the music had stopped, the wet bodies had dried themselves and drifted away, but Brenda's reflection lingered at the pool's edge, hoping for her own private plunge into that liquid element of life. But she found it impossible to venture in alone without her body of substance to draw her in after it. She was doomed to roam hither and forth along the concrete edge of watery pleasure, passionately yearning but never able to dip into the coolness. Brenda herself was in the arms of a boy she met while swimming. He had admired her in her dripping bikini, lay now in her arms looking into her eyes. But she seemed vacant to him, hardly responding to his touch or glance. She had left an important aspect of herself at the pool, but never suspected. And so she would remain. The reflection of Brenda could not run away to find her mistress, as reflections may only exist where they have been cast.

Story #192