It Moves From the Left
His fingers deftly placed each shard of glass on to the round metal disc. He didn’t know the man who sat to his left, humming while shaving fingerprints off a severed left hand with a razor.
A woman, who sat to his right, smelled of tea and sweat, strung small teeth onto a length of wire.
His mirror was special. It gave a reflection of true self. His own reflection become clear as the parts of his puzzle fell into place.
The man next to him sat watching him complete the mirror. Finally, the fingers of his right hand placed the last piece into the center of the mirror.
In the mirror he saw a strong young man, full of life and opportunity. “Other hand. Now.â? The man on the left said. He reached out his right hand and watched as the man on the left cut it off.
“You go to the end now.â? The man told him.
He stood and walked by the woman on the right who was sitting next to a young girl sewing buttons.
She looked up and smiled at him. She was very young and pretty, but she had no teeth.