A Mirror Image

Once again, the man found himself standing in front of the mirror. Three months have passed since he foolishly jumped. Body upright, chest puffed out. Head slightly tilted backwards. Just as he was taught. But this time, he was not staring at perfection. Scars marred his well sculpted body, ugly gashes that stood out, like hot pink on a black canvas. He had obviously been through a lot. 

Behind him, his mobile phone buzzed on the table. And again. And again. Bored girls from his long list. Seriously, they drove him nuts sometimes. But he would be just as nuts without them.

He turned his attention back towards the mirror, but his image had been replaced. The image in front of him was of uncanny resemblance, yet with a more feminine touch. Gone was the painstakingly styled hair. Long flowing hair took its place. Gone were the bulky muscles that he took pride and joy in, replaced by a leanness that was both attractive and inviting. Breasts spilled out where his Chest would be, and way below that…

It was so eerie yet surreally alluring. Even the scars that haunted him were prominently on display in his “reflection”. The man met the woman’s eyes. And he realized it wasn’t just the physical scars they shared. 

In her eyes, he saw himself. Not just the bad, but also the good. Every little perfect imperfection. He knew that she would get his jokes. He knew that she would share his hunger, his insatiable appetite. Most importantly, he knew she would share every feeling that he would have, for better or for worse.

And together, they would be a perfect fit.

But how weird is it to date yourself?

Overwhelmed, the man stepped back.

And she stepped forward.

Out of the mirror.

Dead silence.

And then everything that was meant to be would be.

 

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