Ruben glared
at his swollen reflection in the house's only mirror, not quite satisfied at
the outcome of his life. He had a thick black beard, long sweaty hair and large
beady eyes of brown. That man had managed to ruin all of his opportunities, squander
all of his dreams, and leave him with a handful of money, a job in the local
factory and no friends to speak of. The man in the mirror glared back, holding
a curved semi-smile on his blistered lips. Even they managed to look like
someone had given them a few good punches.
Ruben turned
away from the mirror, knowing that the image would not go away before he did.
He walked over to the fridge, grabbed a banana and settled down to eat it. He
needed to relax. People said that you wanted to think about happy things and
remember your happiest memories in order to relax, but it had never worked for
him. In fact, thinking about those things usually just made him angrier. Just
like looking at himself in the mirror. But he still did it each morning,
perhaps just to remind himself about it.
Sitting by
the table, Ruben could see into the living room. The mirror hung on the right,
its borders decorated with beautiful markings; it was about the only beautiful
thing in his house. The borders made the mirror appear robust, almost menacing,
though the latter could've been a consequence of the massive shadow it cast on
the floor. It sometimes felt almost wicked to him.
He threw
the banana's empty shell on the floor and placed his head onto the table. Its
surface felt cool against the side of his head, but he didn't mind it at all.
In fact, it felt quite comfortable. He began to feel himself getting carried
away, and impulsively gave the living room one last parting glance. The last
image his brain registered was a twitch of movement in the mirror, like branches
playing in the wind. Dead, dry branches.
Ruben
opened his eyes slowly and blinked a couple of times to make sure that he was
awake. It was turning evening, and he realized that had just taken a nap in the
middle of the day. All of his precious hours were gone now. Rather stupid, when
you ponder about it; you can't even take any time off, but every moment, every
"now", must be scheduled to some certain activity. He didn't
understand it.
He raised his
head from the table, white just like the walls, and rubbed his eyes awake.
Ruben felt something new inside him, a wave of something he had never
experienced before. He felt refreshed, even. The sun had climbed high up in the
sky, almost high enough to leave the living room in complete darkness by that
point, though it wasn't quite the time yet. Ruben realized this well enough. He
was used to it. Turning on the lights came naturally to him, and having done
that, he walked over to the mirror.
Ruben gazed
into the mirror and found his image waiting in there. Both of them wore a
confident smile, both of them seemed full of new life. The mirror, though,
seemed almost dark in comparison. Now the borders appeared almost devoid of any life, the markings he had
before described as beautiful too damp, bland, unimaginative, crude. Ruben
looked up again, saw his image just like before, confident. There was nothing
more to see there, he realized. The terror of the image was gone. He turned back
to the fridge for a proper breakfast, grabbed a bowl of stew. Then he feasted.
When Ruben
finally managed to fall asleep, he entered into a strange dream. In it, he was
looking into the mirror again. He had no mirror image, but when he glanced
sideways, he saw another man standing by him. The man looked at Ruben without a
trace of emotion in his eyes. And then he woke up. His palms and forehead were
sweating like no tomorrow.
Ruben jumped in front of the mirror in a miraculously fluid movement, considering his respectable girth, and smiled at his reflection. It smiled back to him, not worried in the slightest, almost as if to mock him: there had always seemed to be a purpose behind those dark-brown eyes, something leering, something lurking in the dark corners of that man's psyche; it had seldom occurred to him this way, yet he still knew that something deliberate, something darker was hiding behind that expression. It smiled now, but it was only a mask; a cowardly mask, hiding the smiling joker who never realized his own futility. Ruben stopped to think, still gazing at his reflection but staring as if he had forgotten it long ago. The reflection answered his gaze, but now there was something different in it. As if it hadn't been a reflection, but a man gazing back at him. Then its eyes began to bulge. Move.