A Pretty City in the Dark

Riley keeps the kitchen spotless for fear of not keeping old things new.  Standing in her tiled sanctuary finishing the dishes a slowness creeps in.  She lives in her little apartment by herself, though she never feels alone.  Drying the water out of a bowl, checking the molded glass against the light, she notices his faint reflection in the window glass.  At first  she hardly recognizes his distinctive stare, but now she sees.  It’s been a while, but he’s standing there again.  He stands with the photo album from her bookshelf, running his hand over the cracked burgandy cover. 

“What’s with all the dust on this album?”
Riley glances at the glass, “What was that?”
"I saw her the other day you know," he says, beginning to flip through the glossy pictures.
"Saw who the other day?"
"Who do you think? The girl in this picture album."
“I told you before how fragile my album is in some places, besides I can’t get any of those back if you ruin them.”
“Look at you with that lip ring,” he said, continuing to flip.  “I could hardly recognize you anymore; it’s like you don’t exist!”
Riley continues to wash.  She thinks she hears anger, even disgust in his voice, but isn’t sure. He paces back and forth in front of kitchen moving in and out of her view.  She studies his image, noticing how the forms of his face change with every page.
"Are you still doing something tonight with Jake?” he says.  
She hears the question from the living room, "At nine I think."
He stops flipping to gaze at a page. "Where?"
"I’m not sure.”  She hesitates.  “I still have to call him?"
She air dries the last plate before towel drying it.  He stops in front of the window;  she catches the reflection of his face as it changes into a smile.
He says, "Do you remember that yellow dress you wore to the funeral?"
She stops and puts both hands on the edge of the sink, leaning in with her upper weight. 
"You’re so beautiful in yellow! Why don’t you wear it anymore?"
"It’s October, way too cold for dresses.  Besides, that dress would be old and tattered by now."
She wipes the counter clean, folds the towel, and checks the kitchen for any mistakes.  Making her way to the living room, she turns off the light. The living room, once lit by the kitchen glow, goes dim.  As she enters the living room, she feels its disorder, its many mistakes.  Looking at the digitial clock on the DVD player, she sees it flashing 12:00.
"Do you still even own that yellow dress?” he says, turning the page finally as he speaks.
"It’s somewhere in my closet. I haven’t worn it since that day."
"You should find that dress and wear it like you do in these pictures."
"I don’t know…maybe.”
The room goes quiet. Riley sits on the love seat staring into her entwining fingers.  He stops pacing nearing the end of the album.  Breaking the stillness, she stands, walks over, and turns on the main light.
"Look how happy everyone looks in this picture for that party."  He turns the album, holding the picture at eye level for her to see.  She remembers the picture, her birthday at O’Donnell’s, the smell of old beer and sweet liquor fills her memory.
"That picture was taken like three years ago," she says moving away from him.
"Yeah, people always look so happy in photos don’t they?"  
He closes the album.
“Sometimes…” she says, returning to the kitchen.  “But the pictures don’t show everything.”
Waiting for his answer, she searches the window again.  But he is gone.  Instead, she sees helfself.  For an instant, she doesn’t recognize the face looking back.  Then, all at once, she sees her new self, as clear as a photograph.