Upon Reflection (Patreon)

It looked like parts of someones eviction. Just a scattering of junk piled up against the chest high wall along the street. A broken chair, a damp mass of cloth, possibly bed sheets that had seen better days, ripped up cardboard boxes that once held someones Wish order. Trash.

Just next to it, to the side, leaning against the wall, was a hall room mirror. I almost walked right past it, but something in the reflection looked off, so I took a step back to have another look. I have a nice place, good education and a job at an ad agency I like and that pays well. But I also have a streak of non-conformance, though that isn’t uncommon in my industry. I don’t do shirt and tie. I always show up in more eclectic attire, like this high end bomber jacket.

But in the mirror I saw the real me, the one I’ve been emulating with fancy interpretations. In the mirror was a skinhead punk wearing the real deal. So close to me, and yet so fundamentally different. I stare at what I see in the mirror. I didn’t scream “Holy fuck, this is magic! Magic is real!” or run away in fear. I just stared at me from the mirror world.

I reached out to touch the mirror surface. I was almost startled that my reflection did the same. Our fingers met on the hard surface for a fraction of a second, and I sharply drew back my hand. I looked at myself wearing designer clothes in the mirror. If this was an hallucination, it was the grand fucker of lead times. Anything messing with my head should have been out of the system many hours ago. Let’s just forget about this and hurry up. Today is my turn to open the vape shop.