Twilight Years

Last week, something strange happened to me. It began with a mirror that still hangs in my bedroom, and everything that followed stemmed from it. Rather than strange, the mirror was downright eerie. It was like a dream. I watched my body gradually disappear, melting bit by bit into the mirror’s broad, luminous surface. I was drawn to it, obsessed with it, as if countless sturdy threads were pulling the strings of my puppet-like body and guiding me step by step toward the gaping maw of an abyss. It was a disaster in my life.