He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there. It could have been a few hours or even a few days. The absorption held. The obsession was getting worse. The blinds were drawn and the lamp on the dressing- table threw a funereal light on the pale, waxen face. He gazed intensely at the image reflected there. He heard the door bang. He didn’t move. His eyes remained on the glass. It would only be Prissie returning from her activities. It was nothing to take him away from the dark pupils that stared from the mirror arresting his own. The mirror held his whole world within its bevelled edges. He only lived now before its reflected presence. It was his reality now and nothing would tear him from it, for he had succumbed fully to the escape he had found there. He could share it with no one. Almost inaudibly he started to recite to the reflection. He spoke slowly, deliberately. It was the confidence of lovers. He smiled contentedly and the image smiled back. Together they lapsed into silence and pondered each other.
