He stared into the dark emptiness of the eyes across from his own. They filled him with a sense of familiarity, but with that he felt no comfort. When he looked deeper into them, hoping for answers, all he saw was a cold blankness that instilled uneasiness and fear in the depths of his existence. It was a feeling that the more he focused on the more it overwhelmed him and a shudder coursed through his body.
As he widened his view of the face he was examining he saw lines that came with age and thinning gray hair tousled on his head. With the narrow cheeks that led to a firm, chiseled jaw he still projected a bold masculine presence despite his obvious age of seniority. He knew the face, but he couldn’t recall anything else about it. Looking at the man in front of him he couldn’t remember the simplest detail. No name, no birthday, whether he had children or what he did for a living.
As the frustration took over his mind and body the shaking came back. A tear ran down his cheek as the sense of loss and loneliness embraced him. He grabbed the closest object he could get his hands on and threw it at the taunting face in front of him.
The sound of shattering glass resonated through the room and the shards fell into the sink. He broke down and sobbed over the now hundreds of tiny reflections that looked up at him. A frantic knocking came upon the door. When he opened it there was a frightened looking older woman who instantly started inspecting him for injuries and asking him what happened.
“I’m sorry ma’am,” he responded through his tears. “The man in the mirror is just such an enigma now. He got the better of me.”
“It’s okay,” she said as he sobbed in her arms. “It’s me, your wife, Judy. It’s all going to be okay.” She cried, knowing she was lying.
The trifecta word this week was enigma.