Show The Cameras What They Want.

The little girl sat on her pink stool in front of her pink vanity, the mirror lights pour their light on her small round face along with her small frame. Using her reflection, she applied red lipstick, from a brand she teamed up with, on her small non- existent lips while she hummed a mainstream song.

“How long are you going to keep putting on that makeup, they’re expecting you.” An annoyed voice with a tint of sweetness asked.

The little girl’s red lipstick paused midway on her bottom lip. She glanced at the left side of her mirror, her eyes seeing the large lens that belonged to a bridge camera. She turned her head to face it, the camera’s body towering over her, readjusting it’s gaze at her. On both sides and standing over the giant camera, her eyes met the backsides and smaller lens of smart phones. Millions of them; pushing, shoving and stacking on amongst each other, forming a stadium just to get a view of her, staring right at her. The little girl felt sweat form on her forehead, a drop of uneasiness formed in her chest; she never thought that this many cameras would take an interest in her.

The Bridge Camera then commanded in a cheerful voice, “Go on, you can do it.” While once again adjusting its lens.

The little girl shifted on the cushion of her stool, she hesitated until a small plop on the ground startled her. She looked down at her feet to see a heart that was no smaller than a dime, it’s vibrant red and cherry scent attracted to her to pick it up. Every touch she felt on its smooth surface, a shimmer of warmth had risen in her chest, spreading all over.

She grinned ear to ear. The phones watched her stood up from her stool and grew. She no longer was a little girl. Through their lenses she was a woman, a woman with grinning red lips and revealing clothes that showed her grown up body. The woman danced; when she rolled, thrusted her hips, the lenses clicked with joy while sprinkled her with hearts. The cherry smell enveloped her, loading her nostrils with encouragement. When she got on the ground lifted her long-grown legs, they clicked with excitement, showering her with hearts. When she swung around, picked up a low squatting stance and threw her hips back, the clicks grew stronger with eagerness; dousing her with hearts.

The hearts kept on arriving; coming down and bouncing off her body every time she twisted and curved her body.

“That’s my girl!” Said the bridge camera, and she felt validation flood all over her body.

But suddenly, Swoosh! The woman felt an intense pain graze her left shoulder; she yelped. The audience paused, stunned, as did the woman; breathing heavily as she peered at her shoulder to see a gash already forming with blood trickling down at the length of her arm. She looked back at her vanity, following the direction of the weapon that cut her. She saw a heart no bigger than a dime, its lower half pinned to the mirror frame. She stared at it with fright, ‘aren’t hearts supposed to be a good thing’ she thought.

Her reflection catches her attention, she stares at it with dazed confusion that soon transformed into horror. Through her reflection was not a grown woman with a grown body, it was a little girl with a little body. Her small round face covered in sweat and smudged with red lipstick, from doing a dance she was too young to do, in an outfit she was too young to wear, with a gash she was too young to have.

“What are you waiting for?” said the Bridge camera, dismissing the event that just occurred, “Show the cameras what they want.”