Dear Sweet Love - Phan

Eight.

Tuesday, October 6th, 2015;
My hands on the keyboard, I started writing. Just writing without thoughts, mindlessly typing and watching the words becoming paragraphs. My psychologist asked me to write a text inspired by a period of my life.
But after a short time, I looked at my text, reading it all. The voice of Dan interrupted me.
"Phil."
I glanced at him, who was sitting next to me on the couch.
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing?", he asked, a smile on his face.
"Hum, writing."
"Can I read it?"
"Sure. But it's not very good."
I handed my MacBook to him carefully.
"Mirrorman. I like the title."
I chuckled, my shoulders moving at the same time. He started reading out loud:
"Once was this boy, born in the odds of a mirror. He couldn't see himself, but would watch them, those at the other side of the glass. He would learn from them, taking pictures with his mind and every night, in his dreams, try to compare them to himself. He did not know who he was, invisible to everyone. The boy himself even didn't know who he was inside, didn't know his opinions nor his origins. But he existed, his no-meaning life confusing to him and the purposes of being a ghost of the mirror not real in his heart. His life was only a routine, the same day everyday. It was an infinite cycle that only death could destroy, but he couldn't access it. He was meant to live in this cycle, live there forvever or for now." He seemed to think, staring at the screen for a while, then asked:
"You made this?"
"Yeah."
"I like it, seriously. Are you going to write more?"
"I don't know, if I'm inspired.", I admitted awkwardly.
He nodded, raised his thumbs in the air, smiled and went away. I chuckled and shook my head.
I started writing again, but he came back.
"Sorry, but do you know where my shoes are?", he asked, tensed.
"I ate them."
He sighed and laughed at little, but asked again:
"Where are my shoes?"
"In your room's closet. Where are you going? On a date?"
He smiled and replied:
"No, I'm going to see Chris."
"Oh.", I mumbled.
"Yes, I know."
"Hum, well good luck with that. Kisses!", I added, chuckling.
"I don't want your kisses you slut!"
"Shut up, man-dude."
"Man-dude?", he asked, raising both his eyebrows.
"You didn't see the video?"
"I don't even know what you are talking about, but I need to go. We'll watch it later. Kisses!"
"Shit addict!"
"Thanks Phil, that was really mature."
"You're welcome!", I said with an angel-like smile.