we will become silhouettes

He walked to the mirror only to find nothing. Carefully he pressed the palm of his left hand in the center of the clouded area, paused but for a moment, almost as if for effect, and drug his hand across its surface. An image of his hand, only elongated like figures in El Greco’s counter-reformation paintings, stretched across exposing his own reflection. And there he stood half naked, half conscious, examining himself, finding tiny imperfections in the minute details that made him who he is. Dissatisfied, he withdrew himself from his position, removed his clothes, and stepped into a world of water that seemed to make a cast around him. In that moment, he became a silhouette.