The Stranger In The Mirror

He locked the bathroom door and turned the faucet on. A few handfuls of cold water, to the face, might do the trick. He let the water cool his skin, soaking into his pours. After taking extra care in rubbing his eyes, he peers up into the mirror. The reflection is wearing the same startled, confused look that he is. “What the fuck”, he mutters. The water, slipping from his lips into his mouth, prompted him to grab the towel from the rack on his left. “I must be going crazy”, he said into the towel. “Going crazy?”, he heard himself say. “Going, implies that the destination hasn’t already been reached”. He laughed into the towel, then put it down to face the mirror once again. “So that’s being pretty modest of you , don’t you think?” There was no laughter this time. An air of concern now hung around him, and it wasn’t because that question hit a soft spot, that he was already joking around. His concern was caused by the fact that he had watched himself say this aloud, yet he knew he hadn’t moved his lips. “Shit”, he said this time. “Shit, is right”, his reflection stated. “I believe we have some catching up to do.”

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