Somehow we have lost our title or lost control, or just walked away in disgust.
Now the reflections that peek back from dirty windows come across unfamiliar and awkward. I can imagine myself in this same spot seven years ago, looking into shop windows as I pass, catching reflections of ghosts staring back at me.
Only now I realize I was seeing pictures of myself as I would look in the future, how I look now.
These mirrors don’t recognize me anymore. They can’t compliment me anymore. I stare at myself and I feel at odds, as if I should think of something to say to my reflection.
But I can’t, it just seems useless and trite. I stand alone, trying to find a few words to offer myself. I only stare back, speechless, hollow and afraid, no longer able to face me.
© Robert Emmett McWhorter