Please note: This is only a short story, so there won't be any chapters. Thank you, and enjoy!
I am a mirror. For many years, I have been a mirror, reflecting the world for the one who cares to look.
Look at me, and you see a plain, ordinary woman. Brown hair held up in a bun, simple dress, and aptly intelligent eyes. What you do not see, however, is that these eyes function, not only for me, but for a man so wonderful, so tender and amazing that he has captured my heart, and my view upon the world, for the rest of eternity.
Dear Edward is considered blind, for he can see merely smudges of the world. I do not care, for he has me, his love and his mirror. "Jane!" he will often call out to me, "What is that there?" He looks to me, and I show him, reflecting the world that has surpassed his inadequate eyes.
"A bird," I say, or perhaps "a flower" or "an apple". For often, we will wander in our garden for hours on end, and though he may be considered blind by the condition of his eyes, I believe that he is anything but. For when I describe all the astonishing visual wonders of the garden, he contemplates them, and gives me another perspective, another way to regard them.
It often comes to me, upon these walks, that I am not the only mirror. For he, too, shows me what I might not have seen had I not looked within him, and he gives me a perspective attainable only by looking into the glass of his white eyes. I am a mirror, and he is as well—only when I look into him, I see not images, but perceptions and perspectives.
Often, I fall into the simply habit of thinking of nothing but the outward appearances of the world. I am a simple woman, as I have said, and I do not need much insight into reality. Description is enough for me, but for him—oh, for him!—it is only a beginning. He looks into me, and what he sees gives him a picture of the world.
Dear reader, I am a mirror. I reflect what must be seen by the precious man who cannot see it. Within my plain exterior is a reflection of the world that Edward somehow sees—sees clearly—by me and me alone.
I will never profess to understand it.