[ WP ] You have developed and ability to see how people will die when you look at them . Your entire life you avoided pictures of yourself , but today you forgot , and , brushing your teeth in the morning , looked in the mirror ...

It was n't fair. 
 
 Always avoiding reflections, water, mirrors. Even uninstalling the mirror from the bathroom. Family and Friends never thought much of it, but then... they never knew the secret. So it was quite a shock looking up and seeing a small vanity mirror belonging to a new house tenant. 
 
 That cursed mirror. In it there was only peace. An old man, surrounded by people. A man on his death bed and fading from a weak heart. It was tranquil. It was Idyllic. It was unfair. 
 
 Every Day there was death and chaos. Suffocation and Suicide. Murder and Malice. In every face a thousand different ways to die, so rare to find a glimpse of peace. 
 
 It was not fair. And it would be defied. So the work began. Charity kitchens and public service. Blood and organ donations. Any and all manner of ways to prevent the grisly scenes. Feed, clothe, and educate the poor. Work and work and work. 
 
 It was never strange, that the wife and children never came. There was no way to provide. Jobs were scarce and shortlived, but always seemed to cover the meager needs. Much more important was to stop the horror. 
 
 Years and years pass. It never ends. Gradually, for some, deaths got a little more bearable. A little more love, less suicides. But it did not take a far travel to find the pain. 
 
 Years more pass. Hair turns prematurely grey. Energy wanes, the body slows. A strange sensation in the chest calls back a mirror from long ago. But there is no family, no loved ones to crowd around a death bed. So it can not be time. 
 
 Illness. An untreated heart defect aggravated by many years of activity and frenzy. A man, not so terribly old, but weathered from life lies in bed. 
 
 A landlord checks the tiny apartment. Unusual for it to be quiet and the door stagnant for so long. 
 
 Alone, bedridden, dying. Many people called. A life lived so does not fail to leave traces on other lives. 
 
 A crowded apartment, a solemn night. One last look on all the faces. Still, everywhere there is death, until finally, there is not. The scenes fade, and there is only life. Dozens of faces, displaying love. Tired eyes close. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

