Mirror

I came in and was dripping wet. The stainless steel furniture and white walls almost blinded me but I was ready for them to invade my space once again. When ever I came in from the damp character ridden world outside my door, the cleanliness of my apartment seemed to always catch me off guard. Though at once it put me to ease to know I was home. Work had been exceptionally difficult to cope with today. I had had unfinished business with an old flame. It had opened old wounds, but now it was all finished so I needn’t worry about it any more.

I slipped off my coat and let out a large sigh that to me rang off the walls of my little apartment. I sat in my favorite chair and again sighed. I still had my drenched coat in my hand and I stared long at the wall in front of me. After a short while my head fell back onto my chair and my eyes closed. I quickly entered a dream. It seemed to me it was more of a memory, when I had first met her. Lala. She was fantastic, and instantly I attributed her to the song of that name. Yet in my dream she never faced me. She was wearing all black. And her shoulders heaved up and down as if she was weeping. I tried to touch her, but every time I spun her around, it was her back I would see, and then I took my hands off her shoulders and they were covered in blood.

I sprang my neck forward and looked at my watch, 530. It had been a short nap. I looked down and saw my jacket on the floor I picked it up after slipping off my shoes and setting them next to the chair. I went to hang up the coat… “Damn!” my wet coat had created a puddle the size of Lake Michigan and now my right sock was soaked all along the bottom and I caught sight of it quick enough to see the moisture travel up the sock to just above my arch.

After I hung up my coat I took off my socks and jumped in the puddle my jacket had left behind, by spreading out the water it would dry quicker, and for once I could forget about work, and feel like a kid again. I walked down the hallway towards the bath room. But I stopped once again and began to stare, this time out the window. The window was fogged over, but water dripping on the inside and outside cleared little lines of substance for me to indulge in. I looked at my watch, 630. That was a good day dream. I reached my hand around the corner and flipped on the light in the bathroom and poked my head around the corner to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I paused. Then headed for my bedroom.

As I entered my room, I slipped off my shirt. I feel on my bed. Grabbing a slice of day old room temperature pizza. I ate it, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Upon arriving at 44 I got up and went back to the bathroom. I squared up to the mirror. I looked in my own brown eyes for what seemed like long enough not to see anything. Then followed my nose, crooked long nose to my prudish lips. I practiced a few smiles but my teeth aren’t straight enough for smiling, though their color is well suited for the task.

My arms did not betray my occupation. Though my jaw line may to a person with a keen sense about them. My hands, my hands betray all things, from death to ignorance, to justice and wisdom. When it came to it, my body could and would not be seen as anything other than a young man, but my eyes… those eyes, those are the eyes of a murderer.