Ficly

The mirror

I had sat in front of the mirror for longer than ever this time. Watching the shadowy figures pass by, some close to the glass, others farther away and blurry enough to almost not be there at all. I had waited with a sudden hope that this time the portal would reveal a form I could identify.

For the last few minutes an outline was stopped near the center of the frame. Clearly in focus, facing (at least one could imagine) directly toward me. Without noticing I’d leaned closer and closer to the screen. As was my habit I spoke to the unhearing forms “Is it you finally? Dad? Did I find you?” I thought the head moved, maybe the arm raised. I may have been imagining it all, they had never responded before.

“Dad,” I continued, “Father I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done wrong. When you were here, and since you’ve been gone.” This time I was certain the head moved. Then again. The figure shook its head, it was certain. Then he turned and walked into the gray. Fading, blurring, gone.

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