Claris Liscpector story collections

It seemed to her that the streetcars passed through the corners of the room, sending a tremor into her reflected image. She slowly went on to comb her hair in front of the dressing table with three mirrors, her strong white arms shivering slightly in the cool evening. Her eyes never left the images of herself appearing on the wavy mirrors, which sometimes went out and sometimes shone brightly. Outside, something soft and heavy fell onto the street floor from a higher window. If her children and husband were at home, she would have attributed the matter to their forgetfulness. Her eyes never left the image, while the comb worked in contemplation, and the open robe revealed chests intertwined, the chests of the girls who appeared on the mirror pages.