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round wall clock and a single piece of furniture--a burgundy velvet chaise lounge. Although worn and faded, the chaise looks comfortable and inviting. This must be where I lie down and get my massage. Wasting no time, I sink into it. I’m so ready to surrender my body.
    Just as I relax, a tiny winged creature zips in like a streak of lightning, drenching me in a shower of sparkling dust. I cough. What the--
    “Hello, Jane. I’m Shrinkerbell, but you can all me Shrink. I’ll be your personal therapist here at Faraway.”
    What kind of massage therapist is this? She’s the size of a sparrow, with hands no bigger than a bird’s claws and thick round spectacles that make her look bug-eyed. Buzzing around the room, she’s as calming as a mosquito.
     “So that you know, Tinkerbell is my fraternal twin. She got the looks; I got the brains.” She runs one of her tiny hands through a messy pouf of blond hair. “Who do you think came up with the Peter Pan complex? Me, that’s who! It kills me that my in-your-face sister always gets the credit.”
    Why is she telling me all this stuff? She’s taking precious time away from my massage. I’m going to demand an extra fifteen minutes if she doesn’t get going.
    She swoops down from the ceiling. “Sorry for getting carried away with my issues.  We’re here to talk about yours. First, do you have any questions?” 
     “Yes. Can you go deep?” I read in one of those beauty magazines that a deep tissue massage can magically restore your beauty.
     “Yes, I like to go as deep as possible with all my clients. My goal is to find the underlying causes of their problems.” 
    Great, because I feel like crap. I’m not sure if it’s the lack of coffee, the climb, or mirror withdrawal. I still have a pounding headache, and my body is aching all over. Plus, the damn dust is stinging my eyes.
     “Just one other little question. Can I borrow a mirror before we begin?” Someone around this joint has got to have one.
     “Ah, yes,” she replies.
    Finally! A mirror!
    “I’ve read your case history. Quite complex, indeed. Has anyone ever told you what you look like?”
    “Actually, I had a magic mirror that did a pretty good job until this little shrew named Snow White got it distracted.” 
    She zooms in closer and circles my head. Talking about someone being in your face.
    “Your nose is too long; your lips are too big; your cheekbones are too high, and your eyes, although a lovely shade of green, are too far apart.”
    Her words hit me like a cannonball. “Liar!” 
    “Jane, having to face the truth is the start of recovery.”
    “Give me a mirror!” I demand.
    She pulls out a tiny glass object from a pocket.
    “Give me that!” I grab for it.
    She zips off before I can snatch it. “No, Jane, this is my magic mirror.” 
    Clasping the small object in her tiny hands, she examines every inch of my face. I try again to snag the mirror, but her trail of fairy dust is blinding me.
    “Ah! I’ve discovered a freckle.” 
    A freckle!? I bolt to a sitting position, clutching my stomach like someone’s punched it. I knew all the sunshine around this place would do me in. I’ll never be the fairest again! I’m ruined!
    A mixture of rage and despair boils inside me. Grasping at air, I finally snatch the looking glass and hold it up to my face. I don’t see a damn thing. That’s because it’s a magnifying glass, not a mirror. I refuse to believe her. She’s deliberately messing with my head. She deserves to die! 
    I hold out my hands and get ready to smoosh her between my palms. Clap! She flits off just in the nick of time.
    I rub my prickling hands together as she flutters overhead out of reach.
    “You have numerous imperfections, but they come together in an interesting, attractive way. Remember, Jane, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”
    “Are we done here?” I say, gritting my teeth.
     “No, Jane, we’ve just begun.” 
    A chime from the