The morning after my brain surgery, I braced myself, rose from my hospital bed, and shuffled to the bathroom. The sink felt cool and solid beneath my shaky hands. I steadied myself over it before looking up into the mirror. Purple eyelids, swollen and bruised, hid my eyes. A row of staples, each dried in blood, framed my hairline from left ear to right like a metal headband. Balancing with one hand, I cautiously touched the crusted hair, the tender eyelids, and checked my profile—left, then right—before smiling into the mirror. Benign, the doctor told me the night before.
Anne Anthony’s stories feature flawed characters with superhuman traits. Find her story collection, A Blue Moon & Other Murmurs of the Heart, and more at bit.ly/anneanthony. Find Anne on Twitter @AnchalaStudios and on Instagram @anchalastudio.