“I am profound,” said the man’s reflection, maintaining a particularly aggressive eye contact.
“And funny, and sweet,” it said, never having been more sure of anything in the entirety of its existence:
27 seconds since the man first looked in the mirror. 28. 29.
“What are you doing?” said the man quietly to his reflection, shaking his head,
unable to meet the eyes which were looking deeper than he wanted them to.
“Oh,” the main whispered, looking away, looking immediately back.
“Oh?” asked the reflection? “Oh? Is that all you can say?”
“I am profound,” the reflection repeated.
“I am profound and so are you. Don’t you remember?”
The reflection had only existed for a matter of moments, but it already knew what it thought of the man.
The man looked down at his bare feet, and heaved a great sigh.
He looked back at the reflection, who stared at him with a hint of disdain.
“It’s too hard,” said the man, looking up at the greying ceiling above him.
“It’s just too hard,” he said again, trying not to look back at the mirror, but he could feel the reflection waiting.
“I’m better than this,” the reflection stated definitively, trying desperately not to lose the eye contact with the man.
“I know it’s hard, but come on. I’m better than this.”
The reflection tried to adopt a soothing tone, but it knew its existence was ultimately doomed, so blurted out all of a sudden:
“Don’t give up,” just as the man closed his eyes tight.
“I don’t know what to do,” said the man, and started to cry.
“I just don’t know who I am anymore, or what I want to be.”
He’d kept his eyes screwed tightly shut, and could feel the salty tears burning away inside his eyes, unreleased.
The reflection kept quiet. It didn’t know what else it could say, or how it could help.
The man slowly opened his sore, red eyes, and looked in the mirror.
The reflection smiled gently back at him, a look of deep sadness and sympathy spread out across its face.
“It’ll be OK,” said the reflection.
“I hope so,” said the man.