I
was thirteen when my reflection disappeared in a blink at the bathroom
mirror. Four men in suits shoved me into a black sedan that night, and I
spent the next five years trapped in a small, reflective glass box, in
which I saw absolutely nothing.
Younger me couldn't handle it. Often I would sit and stare into a mirrored wall, which of course would only reflect the wall behind me, which would only reflect the wall in front, on and on forever like an illusion of a corridor trailing off into infinity. Under a kind of spell, I would spend all my waking hours simply sitting and staring into oblivion, imagining that one day my reflection would return and free me from this prison.
But this morning, something changed. Looking off into the distance, I noticed a distant speck fleeing up the hall of mirrors toward me. It grew in size over several hours before I could finally recognize it. Now, I don't know why it left me, but I can guess why it's racing back with a look of such terror spread across my own face. Knowing won't save us, of course, because now I can also see what's chasing it.
Younger me couldn't handle it. Often I would sit and stare into a mirrored wall, which of course would only reflect the wall behind me, which would only reflect the wall in front, on and on forever like an illusion of a corridor trailing off into infinity. Under a kind of spell, I would spend all my waking hours simply sitting and staring into oblivion, imagining that one day my reflection would return and free me from this prison.
But this morning, something changed. Looking off into the distance, I noticed a distant speck fleeing up the hall of mirrors toward me. It grew in size over several hours before I could finally recognize it. Now, I don't know why it left me, but I can guess why it's racing back with a look of such terror spread across my own face. Knowing won't save us, of course, because now I can also see what's chasing it.
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