The man in the mirror

Everyday, by the clock the man walked right in front of the mirror dressed in a flawless suit with utmost sincerity. He seemed inconsiderate to give away any point of embarassment. He checked thoroughly gazing for the minute imperfections.

Day in day out , his life was well minced and dedicated to the clock . He grinded years and years to master his dreams . He hardly ever had any guests over or was out late dining. A life prone to nothing but shear diligence .

One of these days , a rather unusual sight came to be encountered. Looking into the mirror suddenly a thought just left him unnerved,

'I don't recognise the person I'm in' claimed his heart in silence.

The pause though was very brief but his eyes have longed this interaction . His cufflinks were subtle but conveyed keenness to detail, his smell was certainly of a rare commotion uncommon to the mediocrity surrounding his apartment .

His beard was sharp edged and was meticulously maintained to the millimetre but the demeanor suggested lack of interest in fitness. With a slouched back he revved up his pace and rammed the front door behind.

He left in a bit of hurry but one could easily gauge he wanted to hold back and look into these eyes which have been sitting numb for so long waiting to be answered.

Just like any other day , sharp 9pm the door lock is picked and in comes the man draped in darkness. His tired hands placed the coat in its hanger , the hat and his boots were tucked away from sight and the salient sound from the neighborhood girl practicing her violin eased the environment .

But just like morning , he had been acting up different this night . The mirror tried to catch a gaze from the window by the corner and to its surprise couldn't find him at the supper

The wind outside huddled up , it brought down rain along .

The man had broken the pattern today as much as it never seemed possible before.

He opened up an old bottle of scotch and gobbled down a few glasses. He set the geezer up and let the cold breeze in. The daunting silence was only being habitable by the mild music of violin from next door .

The front room had but only one focusing lamp aiming right down the spot in front of the mirror . And for the first time in years was probably been able to lit up the man's face up close .

As he stood there the mirror ventured deep into his eyes , almost like it has been waiting up for this through its whole shelf life . The man who appeared to do the same was visibly not getting anywhere with it . How can a man in flesh and blood have such cold eyes, it wondered ? The man had nothing but a tiny drop of sweat rolling down the forehead and coming at a halt on his thick brushed brows .

Alas ! the mirror gazed .

He picked out a photograph from his pocket and fixed it on the top right corner of the mirror . He looked at it with great care and sipped down the remnants in his glass .

The mirror tried and tried but in no way could it manage to look what's in the picture that lay fixed upon it . In no moment he rushed out the door, leaving behind the water running ...

It was only a few moments later that it dawned upon the mirror as it heard the melody of the violin shriek .