You come in, late, later than normal. I don’t know why. I saw you from that shop window, again from that shiny Mercedes your neighbours got last week.
But your reasons don’t interest me. Nothing about you does. I don’t care what goes on in your life, even though it changes mine. But now something’s changed. It’s only small. But important. At least to me.
The corridor is dark as a nightmare; I see a flash of worry cross your face as we pass the mirror in the hall. We set our keys on the stand, and you jump at the small chink of metal against the smooth, cold surface.
You don’t know me. You have no idea I exist, even though we see each other all the time, and my face is the most familiar to you.
You hurry into your room, but slow down as you approach the mirror in the corner. You reach out; slowly, so slowly, and hesitantly run your fingers down the shiny surface. You wait, and it is a long time before you look at me. I return your gaze, boring into your eyes until they’re forced down. I feel my head drop with yours, but we both know I have won. As always.
You turn round and rest your back against the mirror. Even though I know I can’t, I think I can feel your weight resting against my spine. I feel the fear pouring out of you as you wonder what you will do, what I will do. What we will do.