He could only see a face staring back at him. Vaguely lined,
looking a little drawn maybe. It was difficult to tell if he was an old or a
young man in the dark; the dank curtains were only letting in a few shards of
light at a time. Graham watched as the man rubbed his face, leaning on the grime-stained
sink before him. The same set of curtains could be seen behind the man, billowing
slightly in front of open windows. The bed standing behind the other guy caught his attention,
a tangled mass of linen covered a girl with equally as tousled blonde hair. He wasn’t
sure who she was, but she seemed familiar.
Birdsong
flew through the window, and for a second everything seemed peaceful, up until
it was utterly drowned out by an angry sounding jackhammer. The grating of
steel on stone rattled Graham’s brain, and without thinking, he popped a
headache tablet in his mouth, copying the man stood behind the sink. What
exactly happened last night anyway? In flashes, he remembered being at a club;
one of the really dingy ones. There was a girl…. Oh, the girl in bed.. he hoped nothing happened. The final flash brought an image to mind. He couldn't place it, but he remembered being really freaked out by something. The more Graham
thought about it, the harder it seemed to recall what it was.
He
looked up, and stared directly at the man behind the mirror. His eyes were
bloodshot, and watering a little bit, and his reflection’s ruffled hair matched
his own. But as Graham began to yawn, the other man spoke up.
“Do you
want to see what’s behind the glass in the mirror?”
Graham's stared with disbelief. Rubbing his eyes did no good.
Is this what happened last night?
Is this what happened last night?
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