The Mirror in the Thrift Shop

Jory is nineteen. He lives in a small room at college. The room is plain. It has a bed, a desk, and a window. It has no mirror.

On Saturday he goes to a thrift shop. The shop is full of old things. There are cups, lamps, chairs, and books. It smells like dust and tea.

At the back he sees a tall mirror. The frame is dark wood. Small leaves are cut into the wood. A paper tag hangs from the corner. It says eight dollars.

Jory stands in front of the mirror. He sees his face. He sees his brown coat and his tired eyes. Everything looks normal.

Then something moves. The Jory in the mirror smiles. But the real Jory does not smile. His mouth is closed.

Jory steps back. The face in the mirror opens its mouth. It looks like a person who sings. Jory hears no sound. But the mouth moves, slowly and sweetly, like a song.

"Hello," says a thin old man. He stands next to Jory. He has round glasses and a grey scarf.

"Your mirror is broken," says Jory. His voice is small.

"It is not broken," says the old man. "It shows what you keep inside."

Jory feels his face turn red. It is true. He loves to sing. He sings in the shower. He sings on the bus when he wears headphones. But he never sings for other people. He is too shy.

"Eight dollars," says the old man. "It is a good price."

Jory thinks for a long minute. Then he takes the money from his pocket.

He carries the mirror back to college. It is heavy, and his arms hurt. His roommate helps him hang it on the wall.

"Nice mirror," says the roommate. "It is very old."

"Yes," says Jory. He does not say more.

The next morning, Jory looks in the mirror. The other Jory sings again. This time Jory can hear a little sound. It is very soft, like a voice in another room. The song is slow and warm.

On the third morning, the sound is a bit louder. Jory stands very still. Then he opens his mouth. He sings one line, very quietly, with the mirror. His voice shakes.

The face in the mirror smiles at him. It looks glad.

On the fifth morning, he sings two lines. On the sixth, he sings the whole song. He forgets to be afraid. The song fills the small room.

Then the door opens. His roommate stands there with a towel in his hand.

"Jory!" he says. "Was that you?"

Jory stops. His face is hot. "Sorry," he says. "I thought you were at the gym."

"Do not say sorry," says his roommate. "That was beautiful. Why do you hide it?"

"I do not know," says Jory. "I am afraid people will laugh."

"Nobody will laugh," says his roommate. "There is a choir in the music building. They meet on Thursday at six o'clock. You must come."

"I am not good enough," says Jory.

His roommate points at the mirror. "Ask him," he says.

Jory looks. The Jory in the mirror nods. It is a small nod. But it is very clear.

On Thursday at six, Jory stands by the music room. He can hear voices behind the door. His hands are cold. He sees his reflection in the door glass.

It smiles.

Jory takes a deep breath. He opens the door and walks in.