the eye of the beholder

standing in front of the mirror, she surveyed the landscape before her, closed one eye and then the other, hoping to improve the appearance. it was no use.

'how drunk are you?' she said, walking into the kitchen from the bathroom. 'i just looked at myself in the mirror, and i am not cute at all, i do not know WHAT you are talking about.'

he put out a hand to stop her, but she moved past him toward the bed in the middle of the room. 'my hair is all wonky and i have these giant bags under my eyes and ...' he stopped her with a kiss.

'the trouble is ... when you look in the mirror, you're only looking at you. but when i see you, what i see is you ... looking at me. and you're beautiful.