He was a living personification of an entire nation. He had lived through wars outside and inside his country. He had survived to become and stay a country. Nothing should really come as a surprise or shock to him. But something did.
Alfred F. Jones saw his reflection blink.
It wasn't a significant glance; he was passing a mirror in the hallway from his study to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Nevertheless, he noticed. He didn't move and stared at his reflection—could he still call it that?—to prove that it had just been a trick from his tired eyes and exhausted mind. As he stood there, stories from his caretaker, Arthur Kirkland, another fellow nation, began to overcome his every thought.
'Alfred, do you ever wonder what is on the other side of a looking glass?'
'Isn't it just a piece of glass?'
'It is more than that. It is believed that a looking glass is a doorway into another world, and your reflection is your other self in that world blocking your way through the doorway.'
Alfred approached the mirror with story still in mind. He was astounded at seeing that his reflection was no longer mimicking his every move and was merely copying his basic actions. Perhaps because he had been caught, the reflection didn't find it necessary to mimic him exactly. Both sides walked up to the mirror; both sides stood erect in front of the mirror; both sides stared at each other in the mirror. The only difference was how the reflection looked at Alfred. It took him a moment to realize what his reflection was portraying in his expression towards Alfred.
Alfred's reflection was looking at him with pity.
The reflection's expression couldn't be defined any other way; it was the definition of pity. It was at that moment that Alfred remembered something he had asked Arthur about the two worlds.
'But why are there two worlds? What's so different about them?'
Arthur frowned. 'That is a little tricky to explain as there is no definite answer. However it has been said that one world is filled with horrors and tragedies, and the reflection is trying to keep the other out of it to keep them from experiencing it.'
'So then they're like a kind of guardian!'
Arthur chuckled. 'I suppose so.'
The realization hit Alfred like a one ton boulder. There would be only one reason why his reflection would be staring at him with pity. Arthur had the story wrong. The reflection in the horror filled world wasn't keeping the other out of it.
He had to walk away from the mirror. His reflection didn't move and watched him walk away, the pity only intensifying at seeing Alfred come to a realization, but also what looked like a bit of shame creeping in. Alfred walked back to his office and fell into his desk chair. His body seemed to give out at not being able to handle what he had just come to realize.
Could this just be a dream? No, it can't be.
The proof was all around him.
He lived it.
Alfred was on the wrong side, the bad side, of the mirror, and his reflection was trying to stay on the good side.
But in all honesty, Alfred couldn't blame him.
