Sixty seconds late
Jan. 27th, 2005 11:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morslaI knew something was up this morning when my reflection was up before me. It had clambered out of bed, buttoned up those back-to-front clothes, and was heading downstairs when I first opened my eyes. It's not the first time I've clashed with the land where the sun rises in the west - they serve as a reminder that things are slightly out of kilter...
We're usually close - seperated only by optics. I sometimes wonder what it's up to when there is no light around - does the reflection sleep when I do, or does it kick back with a drink to celebrate a hard day's mimicry well done? An all-pervasive lateness seeps in slowly as I sip my coffee, cutting breakfast short as my reflection leaves the house.
At first I shrug it off, and sit back down to eat my breakfast. In the glass face of the clock an empty plate stares back at me. As the mirror-me walks past the window, running for a tram, I feel a sudden start of caution as I wonder when I am. Could it catch a tram without me, crushed between the day's commuters? Would it wait for mirror-trams to stop, and travel with its own? I leave my food uneaten as I run for my reflection; follow it aboard the tram and chase it all the way to work.
Several hours have passed since waking to discover my conundrum, but the Morsla in the mirror still stays steps ahead of me. I see him finish work I'm starting, starting work I haven't seen, and though his clock counts seconds backwards he's still just ahead of me...
I once believed ten impossible things before breakfast. If I believe your stories, will you believe in mine?
Happy Birthday, Mister Carroll...
We're usually close - seperated only by optics. I sometimes wonder what it's up to when there is no light around - does the reflection sleep when I do, or does it kick back with a drink to celebrate a hard day's mimicry well done? An all-pervasive lateness seeps in slowly as I sip my coffee, cutting breakfast short as my reflection leaves the house.
At first I shrug it off, and sit back down to eat my breakfast. In the glass face of the clock an empty plate stares back at me. As the mirror-me walks past the window, running for a tram, I feel a sudden start of caution as I wonder when I am. Could it catch a tram without me, crushed between the day's commuters? Would it wait for mirror-trams to stop, and travel with its own? I leave my food uneaten as I run for my reflection; follow it aboard the tram and chase it all the way to work.
Several hours have passed since waking to discover my conundrum, but the Morsla in the mirror still stays steps ahead of me. I see him finish work I'm starting, starting work I haven't seen, and though his clock counts seconds backwards he's still just ahead of me...
I once believed ten impossible things before breakfast. If I believe your stories, will you believe in mine?
Happy Birthday, Mister Carroll...
