Four

Late last night in my bathroom, I had a conversation with three reflections of myself. One in the main mirror, one in the medicine cabinet mirror, and one a reflection of the medicine cabinet mirror in the main mirror.

Main mirror Michael rambled on about all the bad things in life: deaths of loved ones, severely lacking social life for much of childhood, and the plight of others less fortunate around the world.

I heard my mother, down the hall, softly screaming in her sleep from a nightmare.

Serving as the Main Mirror's foil, twice-reflected Michael summarized all the good things in life: relatively high standard of living, educational opportunities, friends, family, youth and the like.

I thought of good times had recently and couldn't help but smile.

Medicine cabinet Michael presented me with a look toward the future: well, there's college, a career that ideally aligns with my interests and contributes to society, new people to meet, and, maybe, love.

All that would come with time.
I noticed that my forehead creases suddenly looked very noticeable.

Medicine cabinet Michael cut the conversation short with a vague and cliché conclusion; what happens will happen.

I rubbed my eyes and went back to sleep.