"I finally found you ..." He whispered as a tear escaped his eye, his hand on his forehead, fingers losing themselves in his own dark hair.
The person in front of him was leaning forwards gently, dressed in a light blue one piece, with a simple yet elegant black pattern decorating it, she wore a white hat, looking at him with a curious expression. Her hands behind her, as in her eyes was reflected the face claiming to have found her...
"Have you?" She questioned in a beautiful voice, as her long hair blew in front of her.
...
He stood there, water dripping from his face, the light above him making a small continuous buzzing sound, the water felt cold, and refreshing. I really needed that he thought to himself, the sounds from outside making their way in, an inviting clamor, just as he dried of his face with the towel he caught a glimpse of his own eyes... it was as if the reflection through that moment of contact had pierced into him, his very soul... He focused on it, the reflection. Looking at his own face he felt odd, for the more he looked at it the more unfamiliar it became. Supporting himself by gripping the washbasin with both hands he closed in... Observing his own features this intently after a long time, and as he did every other sound became distant, as if there was only him and his reflection. And his own eyes reflected studied him as he did the image, he felt wrong, wrong in so many ways.
Who is that person in the mirror, surely not me, or is it... is that me...
he saw the light scar on his cheek from when he was young, his brother had accidentally cut him with a pointed stick, ah how he had cried then, it felt as if it were only yesterday, and that cut mark on his eyebrow from when he fell from that chair, how silly it had been, everyone had rushed to him and he did not even know why. He looked at his eyes, as they looked back, where had time gone, who was this person in front of him, and without really thinking about it he voiced,
"Who are you..." as soon as he did he realized how silly it was, again looking at the eyes. But then something strange happened. He felt as if there was a reply... he heard the voice in his own head, his own conscious perhaps.
"I do not know anymore" it was the reply, surprised he raised his voice again, knowing full well that it was he himself who he was indulging.
As he spoke with himself he cried, for that inner voice was cursing him, and begging him for all the wrongs that he did, the voice was so clear and so to the point, all his secrets, all his wrong doings that only he knew about, that voice was protesting against, things he did not want to hear, memories he wanted to forget. And the voice just kept getting louder, louder and louder still until finally when he focused on the mirror again it was broken and his knuckle bleeding.
Thime was a small village in the snow country, a cozy little place, friendly, everyone knew one another... the community was tightly knit, children would play all day, and the adults would work, Small shops, fruits and vegetable vendors, barbers etc. No one was exceptionally rich, nor was anyone too poor. There was a pub near the village center, where all the adults usually gathered, especially on weekends. The building was an old one, with wooden framing, but it looked oddly cozy.
Aeron walked out of the restroom, he knuckle bleeding.
"You okay Aeron, I head the glass breaking, did ya slip or something?" The bartender, a fat old man with a grandfather like air to him called out to him after hearing the sound of the glass shattering.
"Something like that..." replied Aeron dismissing the concern, not really understanding what had happened himself.
"Your hand it's bleedin, you did get yourself cut, come here" The bartender continued, taking out a medical box from under the counter.
