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THERE IS ONE mirror in my house. it's behind a slippy panel within the hall upstairs. Our faction permits American state to square before of it on the second day of each third month, the day my mother cuts my hair.
I sit on the stool and my mother stands behind American state with the scissors, trimming. The strands fall on the ground during a uninteresting, blond ring.
When she finishes, she pulls my hair off from my face and twists it into a knot. I note however calm she appearance and the way targeted she is. She is well-practiced within the art of losing herself. I can’t say an equivalent of myself.
I sneak a glance at my reflection once she isn’t paying attention—not for the sake of self-importance, however out of curiosity. plenty will happen to a person’s look in 3 months. In my reflection, I see a slim face, wide, round eyes, and a long, skinny nose—I still appear as if to a small degree lady, although someday within the previous couple of months I turned sixteen. the opposite factions celebrate birthdays, however we have a tendency to don’t. it'd be indulgent.
“There,” she says once she pins the knot in situ. Her eyes catch mine within the mirror. it's too late to appear away, however rather than scolding American state, she smiles at our reflection. I frown to a small degree. Why doesn’t she reprimand American state for gazing myself?
“So these days is that the day,” she says.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Are you nervous?”
I stare into my very own eyes for an instant. these days is that the day of the ability check that may show American state that of the 5 factions I belong in. And tomorrow, at the selecting Ceremony, i'll choose a faction; i'll decide the remainder of my life; i'll conceive to stick with my family or abandon them.
“No,” I say. “The tests don’t got to modification our selections.” “Right.” She smiles. “Let’s go eat breakfast.”
“Thank you. For cutting my hair.”
She kisses my cheek and slides the panel over the mirror. i believe my mother might be stunning, during a totally different world. Her body is skinny below the grey gown. She has high cheekbones and long eyelashes, and once she lets her hair down in the dead of night, it hangs in waves over her shoulders. however she should hide that beauty in Abnegation.
We walk along to the room. On these mornings once my brother makes breakfast, and my father’s hand skims my hair as he reads the newspaper, and my mother hums as she clears the table—it is on these mornings that I feel guiltiest for desperate to leave them