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Matty pauses for a few seconds and again begins to speak to his reflection in the mirror. His reflection had almost become another person in his eyes. He wholly disconnected from the fact he was the same person on both sides of that mirror. He cried, and his voice sounded a bit muddled. But he pushed on and continued to talk to the fat man who stared back at him.
“ I wished you could have been six-feet-two-inches tall—maybe even six-foot-three, but you’re not!” He shook his head from left to right and then wiped his eyes free of tears. “Nope, you’re a mere five-foot-six inches tall. Shit, I guess you can let that one slide. We can’t have everything, can we?”
He looked directly into his reflection’s eyes. “How about your eyes? Maybe blue? No? What about green?” He put his head down and shook it rapidly again. “No, no, they couldn’t even be a cool-ass gray color. We would have loved a cool gray color. Naw, Matty’s eye’s had to be brown.”
He pulled his lower left eyelid down to see his eye color more clearly. “Look, they are shit brown at that!” Frustrated, he let go of his eyelid, threw his hands in the air and shook his body dramatically then slapped his hands down on his thighs in disgust. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! YOU WANTED TO BE THIN AND ATHLETIC, BUT HERE YOU STAND, A THREE-HUNDRED-AND-SIX-POUND PILE OF SLOUCHY SHIT!” he yelled. “YOU, MATTY, SUCK AND ARE NOT WORTH SAVING! YOU’RE FUCKING PATHETIC!” He finishes with an angry glare.
As he glared at his reflection, he noticed it’s holding a gun in its left hand. Matty’s reflection, facing the barrel of the weapon, twisted the flat part of the magazine clip from side to side for Matty to see. It was as though his reflection tried to frighten Matty into stopping him from killing them both. It didn’t even phase Matty.
Matty watched his reflection with a sense of intrigue. It was as if he was watching a new thriller at the movie theater. What would to happen to his reflected self? They were in a game of chicken without cars. There was an eerie silence that neither was willing to break. Matty and the reflected image of himself, stand, both stern, both have their heads cocked a bit to one side. Matty’s was cocked to the right, just touching the barrel of the gun. His reflection was to the left, also slightly grazing the barrel of the gun. Matty’s reflected self finally breaks the tension.
“You see, Matty? You can’t be six-feet-two, and you can’t have green eyes, and you can’t change the way you lived as a child. It is what it is. We can’t change what Em did all those years ago. We can’t change the fact Josh turned out to be an asshole. And we can’t change the fact Gamma died!”
Matty, full of tension, flexed his fingers the same ones wrapped around the gun handle. He raised his pinky, and as he laid it back down, he lifted his ring finger. As he lays that down, up comes his middle finger. It was like a fan-filled stadium doing the wave in unison. He did that twice and then squeezed back down on the grip of the gun tightly. He stared again at his reflection in anger, and this time he decided to speak.