I entered the bathroom and flicked on the light with the tip of my pointer finger. Light flooded the room, but not as powerfully as I expected. I shot a glance at the mirror: I couldn't help but notice how the soft light fell on my short hair (for reasons unknown, my hair color changed slightly when I got it cut, and it still amazes me).
I was confused for a moment, but then noticed that two of the three light bulbs above the mirror were out. Sorry, I was being pessimistic-one of the light bulbs was still glowing.
Anyway, I couldn't help looking once again at the figure in the mirror, and noticing the romantic (literal sense) light, and the story that wrote itself in my head about a young spy who is forced to have her hair cut. My expression turns to pity as I play out the girl's fate. To run and never return...
...I get that "utopia" feeling again. I shake my head and the story starts to vanish from my mind and my toothbrush fills my mouth.