[TALE] THE MAN IN MY MIRROR (PART 1)

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THE MAN IN MY MIRROR

PART 1


Ever since my sixteenth birthday, there has been a man in my mirror. My image has remained constant, but there’s always a middle aged fellow off in the corner of the reflection. And he’s only there in actual mirrors. Puddles? Windows? The reflection of sunglasses? He’s absent. But he’ll appear in compact mirrors inside makeup casings, rear view mirrors in cars, you get the idea. When I look at a mirror, my 23 year old face and his 40 something face are there.



At first, I was obviously scared. Seeing a slightly balding man, with crimson tinged cheeks and a neutral expression behind you in your room would freak anyone out. I thought he was a ghost, but then nothing else out of the ordinary happened. No doors randomly opening, no unexplainable noises in the night, nothing.


So then I thought that perhaps I was going crazy. But after several doctor trips and many passing psyche evals, I eventually brushed that off too.

For a little over a year, we watched each other. I tried talking to him, pleading to know his intentions. I tried taking pictures of my mirror, wishing to capture his existence (of course he wasn’t in any of the stealthily taken photos). I asked many of my family members and friends if they, too, could see his presence. But they all thought I was simply messing with them. Instead of pressing the issue and looking like a lunatic, I let the issue dissolve.

I’ve lived for many years now simply pretending he isn’t there, and in that time, he hadn’t changed clothes or expressions. He remained the same while I continued to age.

MAN IN MY MORROR 2 
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