Kristina England Miles to Go Sarah would sleep on a rock tonight. Yes, a rock. And not a flat one at that. This new land didn’t call for flatness. But rocks were the only place to escape the glass. She climbed up onto the jagged bed, slipped off her sandals. Shards of glittering mirror dug into her bare feet. She took out pliers and began plucking pieces. Sarah then took a hammer and grated the glass into salt. She said a blessing over it and poured the dust into her mouth. She slugged water out of a canister to wash down the minerals. She could feel the pieces coming together in her body, assembling into a looking glass. Sarah closed her eyes and let the structure resurrect. Then she twisted her eyes backward and stared into the reversed image. She read what it offered for news - exactly seven miles to go until she reached the land of bees. She pulled her body down into a sleeping position. The rock slit her back open. Glass trickled out and returned to the earth. Rejuvenated, she stretched, pulled on her sandals, and descended the rock. She would miss the world of reflections. She had missed the lands before, especially the land of silk, where she’d wrapped herself up and let the softness calm her skin. Some called it the land of denial. She called it the land best suited for home. Her worst visit - the waters of buried memories. You couldn’t resist looking down as you swam through such heavy waters. She hadn’t been ready for that one. She almost drowned in the weeds. The bees and the mirrors should have come first.