Brother on Sunday
She is on the phone. He can see her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the headset wrapped around her ear as if she were an air-traffic controller or a Secret Service agent. “Are you sure?” she whispers. “I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. If it’s true, it’s horrible. . . .
A.M. Homes's Tom examines himself in his wife's makeup mirror, tilts his head, checking where the shadows fall. A thin silver needle enters the reflection. He injects a little here, a little there—just a touchup. Later, when someone says "You look great," his face will bend gently, but no lines will appear.