House of Mirrors

Though I was told to go to the City, I was never told where. The City is a place comprised of places, all connected and overlapped and isolated.

I walk down one of the streets, bathed in the midnight sunset of neon glow, unsure of where I am headed. I am not lost, for one can only be found in the City, as I know where I am. The destination may elude me, but a glance about tells me my location. The street and store signs both shout where they are, affirming everyone of their absolute place.

Rain falls, and the wetness of the ground begins to cast mimicries of the walls of the cavernous streets, cruel distortions broken further as I pass through them.

I stop, turn, and see myself in the window, reflected eyes peering into myself, delving into me. Intimidated, I look down at my feet, only to see the same spectre looming beneath my shoes. My frantic glance turns to the sky, but even the moon holds an echo of my form.

Certainly I could never be lost in the City if all around me it held my form.

The End

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