Mirrorman

"Did he let you do it? Did he let you appeal? Did he? Did he?" The mirrorman was agitated. His reflection was starting to be distorted into a dilapidated mosaic. This was not how it was supposed to be guaranteed. He was getting apprehensive and demanding, but he could never deviate away from the frames of the mirror as he was bound there forever. He fidgeted, knowing he could only see his wholeness on the other side, which the janus-faced being naturally possessed.

"The recoils of the past, it did not move me." The janus-faced being reasoned, standing in front of the mirror where the mirrorman was exposing his reflection. He was steady and weary, but the mirrorman was walking back and forth in between the limit of the frames, unaware of his disconnection to the being. The being was in deep thought and showing indifference to the cynicism the mirrorman was showing. It was not resonating. It was not bouncing back to him, so the mirrorman absorbed it. All of it.

The room was filled with antique furniture and contrasting dullness. It was convenient, an ideal setting. The navy blue cashmere carpet ejects the crimson pint of the walls. The glass chandelier was expressing its darkest lightness. The colorful fishes in the luxurious aquarium were defeating one another, forcefully moving to own the only territory, however loose the atoms in the water may be. Their discourse was at the center of the lesser side. They remained still.

Tonight, there were four patterns.