We can look behind the mirror, you and I. We can say, definitively, that it is just and only a mirror. We can tap on the glass, mist it with our breath. It is just a mirror. And yet. What it shows. What if reflects. Cannot be.
What do you see? Can you describe it to me? Yes? Thank you.
But wait. What are you seeing? Truly?
You don’t see beautiful, drifting, darting, phosphorescent fish? The jellies floating translucent and glowing? Is that not kelp, in a forest waving behind me? Gliding shapes that send an atavistic shiver up your spine?
You can’t see my gills?
You say….
You say I look…fully human?
What does that mean?
Who has done this to me? How will I survive? How will I move through the world if walls become solid? This isn’t right. Can’t be right. I hate it. Make it stop. Stop it. STOP IT! There is no curse strong enough to express this grief.
Take it away, all of it. No more mirrors. No more windows, nor any glass of any kind.
I will keep the box.
I will keep the darkness.
The rest is yours.
