A Lovely Distraction

After Exit West by Mohsin Hamid

As the sun dipped into the golden pool below the horizon, an olive-skinned young woman was shattering her fourth mirror that week. She partook in this rather odd habit not because she enjoyed the sound of the unmaking of glass, a lullaby of a thousand metallic fragments, but because she oft found her reflection so unceasing that she could only find solace in its absence.

She had not brushed her teeth that morning, nor had she combed her hair, and her unkempt appearance was only rivaled by that of her room, where clothes were strewn about and idleness hung in the air like a thick fog. Too much light poured in through the window, slightly open, where outside a river ran and birds sang, a mocking reminder of the continuity of the world around her. In the stillness, the only thing left to question was herself, and this she did, arguably too much, smashing mirrors each week and drowning herself in the cacophony of her own thoughts.

As the pieces strewn about the ground seemed to multiply, an occurrence which drained even more energy from her, the young woman noticed that her closet door had been replaced by a darkness, something which she was used to seeing but never in such close proximity. The darkness seemed to occupy the entirety of the doorway, swallowing sunlight itself, creating nothing out of something, almost invitingly. More than a welcome, it was a primal desolation that carried her feet through the doorway, and finally the young woman let herself fall.

Her limbs felt like lead as a faint rhythmic thumping filled her ears. She soon realized that she was in the kitchen of a karaoke bar, which was now almost empty. She cautiously made her way out, past the booths of tipsy patrons and slurred words, into downtown Los Angeles.

Screens and skyscrapers covered every square inch of sky so that it was impossible to tell what time of day it was. Men in crisp suits brushed past, talking in urgent voices on their phones, girls and boys with backpacks crowded in front of store windows and electronic billboards, and tourists’ feet wandered while their eyes remained glued to cell phones, like a flock of sheep if sheep lived downtown of a high-tech city. The young woman too found comfort in the bright pixels and clamoring voices. For once, her thoughts were not louder than her surroundings, a fact which she came to appreciate as she let herself float in the calmness of the chaos.

A sort of euphoria washed over her, or perhaps it was the absence of unhappiness. It was as if she was a character on one of those screens. There were no birds or rivers to ground her, no mirrors to show her who she did not want to see. The young woman did not have space in her thoughts for much else. Her schizophrenia became but an abstract concept, much like the neon shapes that fluttered through the billboard pixels in dizzying splotches of light.

Her body, with a mind of its own, carried her through the crowded downtown streets. Time seemed to slow down and speed up of its own accord, the only law governing the night city being electricity itself. But even as she filled her head with the music of virtual nothings, the young woman noticed things. She noticed the cool tones of her olive skin. She noticed the way the pixels of white light separated into red, green, and blue when she stared at them long enough. She noticed the synth beats of the music that hovered in and around her eardrums. She noticed herself, and she was not happy.

The young woman turned to face a store, lit all too brightly by colorful bulbs. In the store’s front was a screen, virtually shouting advertisements and sale deals, glaring lights, a mobile north star. For the split second that the screen went dark, switching from a flashy promotion to an even flashier welcome sign, the young woman saw herself reflected in the black mirror. Without hesitation, she drove her left fist straight into the screen, shattering the glass and with it her reflection into a thousand metallic fragments at her feet. She glanced up at the LED sky, at the tenacity of the glowing city that hung in the air, and back down at her hand, unfazed. It was a lovely distraction. She knew she was going to stay here for a while.

Jiho Lee '21

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