[ WP ] As you gaze into the mirror , you see a different person staring back at you .

Sometimes I catch myself smiling into my reflection in public. It'll happen when I get preoccupied with something and catch a glimpse in a storefront or deli counter. He'll be there, my own other half, with the smarmy smile I've gotten used to seeing. I'll blush if someone calls me out, apparently my reputation as a bit of a weirdo has begun to precede me. It's taken some time, but I realize now that he is my little secret. 
 
 Sometimes I wave to him. He waves back. 
 
 He has these deep blue and purple eyes that just stole my attention. They're his best feature, that's for sure. It's not that I'm lonely... No, far from it. I have friends other than the man who stole my reflection and, well, a bit of my heart. But to tell you the truth... It's almost like all I want to do is reach out to him. He's my friend. Someone I'm sure who has my back. 
 
 I guess you could call us opposites. I'm short and plain, with scruffy hair and muddy eyes. He's got white hair and eyes like thunder. He's tall and lean, like someone drew him in and tacked an extra few inches onto his legs. He changes his clothes sometimes, but mostly just wears simple colors. A white shirt, maybe jeans or black cargo pants. He's got a necklace, too, a silver half of a yin yang. He smiles at me, with the little crinkles around his eyes, and it feels like he's really there. I sometimes mention it to therapists, as I've been to quite a few, and they all act as if it's all in my head. I know it sounds silly, but he's not that bad. My own little guardian. 
 
 About a year ago, someone broke the mirror he was in. 
 
 It all happened so fast. One minute I was in a restaurant looking at his beautiful eyes in the vase of the flowers at my table, the next the table was ripped out from under me. It felt like something out of a movie. I stood up and looked at the assailant, my gaze traveling up his torso until we locked eyes. 
 
 His were dark, brown and black. Not at all like the purple and blue I had seconds ago been captivated by. 
 
 He had thrown himself through the window and was brandishing a gun. His movements were erratic, eccentric. He wanted money, and kicked the table away from me to catch the attention of the rest of the clientele. It certainly worked. All eyes were on him - except for mine. 
 
 I was following my other half. 
 
 Concern flickered across his face. He shifted positions, jumping from the shards of shattered glass to the mirror above the bar. He reached out for me and spoke, silently. I could n't hear anything he said. I do n't think anyone else could have. 
 
 The man fired his gun, and it shattered the mirror. 
 
 A white crackle filled my mind. Static. A piercing wail that seemed to block all of the senses I could possibly imagine. 
 
 When I awoke, the man was gone. The newspapers said that someone must have released a flashbang, or something similar. They were unable to find the body, or any traces of an explosion, but everyone in the immediate area had reacted as if in pain. The video footage cuts out right as the bullet hits the mirror - hits him. 
 
 I do n't know who the man in the mirror is, but I know he's here to help me. I just wish I could hear him when he seems to call my name. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 Dunno where I went with this.
