(no subject)
The corridors were silent and empty as he walked to the library. These days he walked with his shirt on. No one to impress with it off, and the one person he did want to impress was avoiding him. So he walked to the library, fully clothed and physically unimpressive, to learn new and exciting information about plant life on Mars.
A strong aroma of peaches surrounded the area surrounding the library. This did not strike him as odd. Perhaps something had happened that required an aromatic masking agent. The smell was pleasant, at the very least. He turned the knob and opened the door.
What he saw as not the library, but a long and wide stone room covered in dust. In front of him was a tall, thin mirror. He walked forward, cutting line through the thick carpet of dust. Images became visible in the mirror as he drew closer, growing more solid with every step. He stopped abruptly as he came within arm’s reach of the mirror He saw himself in the mirror, and a woman with two children. His, of course. And the woman was Satine.
“It’s what you want,” said no one’s voice.
“It’s an illusion,” said he, but his hand reached out to the glass in spite of his doubt. One of the children extended a hand. Their fingers connected, though he could only feel glass. He knew then the voice was right: he wanted this to be real, he wanted to feel flesh instead of glass, he wanted to know that smile on her face came from true love and not because he wished it there. Unless his luck changed, he was stuck with the mirror.
He woke up soon after, feeling confused and disgusted that his dream self tried to do something stupid like walking into the mirror, feeling sad because even his dreams were taunting him with things he wanted but could never have.
A strong aroma of peaches surrounded the area surrounding the library. This did not strike him as odd. Perhaps something had happened that required an aromatic masking agent. The smell was pleasant, at the very least. He turned the knob and opened the door.
What he saw as not the library, but a long and wide stone room covered in dust. In front of him was a tall, thin mirror. He walked forward, cutting line through the thick carpet of dust. Images became visible in the mirror as he drew closer, growing more solid with every step. He stopped abruptly as he came within arm’s reach of the mirror He saw himself in the mirror, and a woman with two children. His, of course. And the woman was Satine.
“It’s what you want,” said no one’s voice.
“It’s an illusion,” said he, but his hand reached out to the glass in spite of his doubt. One of the children extended a hand. Their fingers connected, though he could only feel glass. He knew then the voice was right: he wanted this to be real, he wanted to feel flesh instead of glass, he wanted to know that smile on her face came from true love and not because he wished it there. Unless his luck changed, he was stuck with the mirror.
He woke up soon after, feeling confused and disgusted that his dream self tried to do something stupid like walking into the mirror, feeling sad because even his dreams were taunting him with things he wanted but could never have.