The Passenger

A Story by Tom Aubin

A man is confused by the difference of facial expression between himself and his mirror's reflection.

THE PASSENGER

Ray hated the guy in the mirror.

It was like that since the first time he had been able to see him. Always smiling, always cheerful-looking. Basically the opposite of what he was feeling inside. It took a long time before he realized that he had become jealous of his own reflection. And right then, the questions started to come.

First, why was the guy always smiling? He would run his hand on his face and feel his loose lips, and it was clear to the touch that what he could feel at the tip of his fingers was not a smile. More importantly, what he was feeling could not in any case produce a smile. Then why?

He had no answer for the first question, so came the second one: was the person on the other side really him? Was the image inversion the only difference between what was surrounding him and what he could see on the glass? Or could it be something else? Somewhere else?

This question kept him awake most nights. He could not help but think that the person on the other side was not him, but just a smiley impostor with the sole goal of making his life miserable. He did not even dare to look at the mirror anymore, and his dreams and nightmares started to look strangely similar, as if days and nights would just converge, make love, and give birth to something new. Something unnatural.

As his normal life went on, he would avoid any contact with his reflection. The idea came to him that anytime he would look at it, it would give power to the guy on the other side. And if he could avoid it for a while, the guy would be out of patience and leave.

It did not happen.

The world around him became even more tasteless, as if he was an empty plane waiting for a passenger, as if he was only a shed snake skin left behind to rot while his real body crawled happily somewhere else.

After a long time of ignoring himself, he had to look. Besides the longer hair, longer beard, and the even longer smile, it was still the same guy.

“What do you want?” he shouted at the mirror.

And he saw the guy repeating his words at the exact same time, except that there was no anger in them. Nothing more than a friendly curiosity. That made Ray furious, and the jealousy inside him took shape in his mind in the form of a leaf dancing with the wind. The leaf was spinning, faster and faster, and what was only a breeze evolved into a gust, and the gust itself became stronger and faster, ripping the leaf to pieces and finally turning into a tornado.

Ray sent his fist at himself, aiming for the face, and the mirror cracked open in front of him. A small rivulet of blood was flowing down his reflection’s forehead, and Ray felt a rush of confusion when he noticed that the smile on the other side was turning into laughter.

He hit, and hit, and hit again, and when he could not feel his right fist he started to use the left one. The mirror was falling to pieces, and with it the guy on the other side. There was nothing else on the wall now, except a piece of cardboard where the mirror was previously attached, and Ray just stood there, short of breath, looking at his bloody knuckles.

The smiley guy was gone now, reduced to small pieces on the floor, like a shiny puzzle, and as he looked down at the result of his anger, Ray realized something. He was smiling. For what seemed like the first time in his life.

He touched his face again, just to be sure, and here it was, a beautiful curve. The tornado inside him was gone, and it had left clear thoughts and a peaceful silence behind it. His anger had been the threshold to his serenity, and he had found the answer to his questions.

All this time the guy on the other side had been the passenger of his empty plane, waiting at the gate, smiling because he knew that someday Ray would stop to simply look at the door and finally open it, even if he had to break it down.

Ray was still smiling as he picked up the pieces on the floor, and had been smiling ever since.

THE END

© 2017 Tom Aubin

Author's Note

I hope you will enjoy it. Please let me know if something can be done to improve it.

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Featured Review

Tony Jordan

Wow! This spoke to me of my friend's father who passed away due to Alzheimers. In his last (mobile) days my friend would brush his dad's hair and point as he did so into the dad's mirror reflection and say ask,"Who is that handsome man?" and his dad would be completely unaware of his own reflection and often reply - "I think I know that guy from somewhere." (he wasnt even trying to be witty or sarcastic more's the pity). Yes a passenger Thomas. Again...wow. This gave me chills.