Who Would Have Guessed

 The room began to expand and contract in unison with his breath.

        Its working.

The carpet below him swayed, the movement of each fiber danced back-in-forth as if each was a stalk of wheat being blown by a phantom wind. And each wheat was just another field of wheat. 

He gazed out a window at himself and found someone else standing there instead. Naturally, the visitor was (in logic) himself. (This stranger now witnessed through the eyes of an infant, yet, the mind of a man.)             

  Unless his thoughts could be reflected as well.

He tried. 

No matter how intense his focus he could not reflect one thought back. 

This stranger is not of me.

He removed the window from where it hung, placed it in the shower and turned the water on. 

  

  The stranger will look once more and wonder why it is now raining.

        How clever.