The Long uphill climb to Death

I dreaded looking in the mirror. I was no longer there. Someone was on the other side of the glass. That someone moved when I moved, brushed their teeth when I did, shaved the same as me, but wasn’t me.

That person was an old person. A real old person. No way could it be me.

I was young. I was tall and straight. I had a full head of hair, and all my teeth.

Why were they trying to foist this person off as me.

Morning noon and night that old person was in the mirror.

I bought a new mirror today. Tomorrow I will un-crate it and hang it up so I can see the real me. It will be a relief to see myself as I really am.

The old mirror has played it’s last trick on me. I carried it to the alley for the trashman to haul off.

Ahhhh, today’s the day.

I un-crated the mirror. As I tore away the last sheet of brown paper I looked into the mirror.

I was stunned. That old man had managed to attach himself to my new mirror.

I cried.

The End

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