fickshun
"Darling, it's not you." She said to the reflection; "It's me." Sigh. Cigarette. Smoke ring. "Okay. It is you. But a little bit of it may be me. I love you. I do." I think. "But married? I said yes but I meant... well, I meant yes then but you know me. I have a tendancy to speak before I act so I probably didn't mean yes." Cigarette. Smoke ring. "Darling, Ii can't marry you. Well, Icould, but you'd hate me for the rest of your life. Or maybe that'd be me hating you, but either way, it's a mistake."
"Married..." she breathed to the mirror again. "Oh stupid, what were you thinking? Oh. Oh, hair color, sorry, forgot." She reached up to wrap a blonde ringlet around a manicured finger. "Marriage," she explained to the mirror in between puffs of her cigarette, "is for people that are too old and too ugly to appreciate freedom."
Then again, she thought, furrowing her brow, maybe marriage was meant for people who talk to themselves in the mirror.