it's 2:39am, aaron's clutching his knees to his chest. the window is closed, and he wonders if he should open it. he wants to pull back the french curtains and let the ghost drift away into the moonlight. he doesn't want to make any new friends tonight. he glances to the mirror, slightly cracked and distorting the reflection. he sees the marble floor, the wooden coffee table, tweed blanket strewn over the couch cushions, and then wooly oversized sweater of his (and crew socks). he can't see himself.
