His hair had grown quite long, shaggy and uncombed over his sweaty face, stretching out his hand in front of him, his nails were dirty,knuckles bruised and slightly bleeding, he waved it left and right and staringin front of him, the little boy mirrored his actions. He even looked just likehim, just as skinny, just as filthy. But image was changing, it did notsurprise him.
Nothing was real
Another child
A girl
She tilted her head with a quizzical expression and he foundhimself mimicking her actions
This isn't real
He reminded himself
And if he touched the glass then she would be gone
"Don't touch it!" she said in a small voice and he instantlyfroze, his hand an inch away
His hallucinations never spoke to him like that before
How odd
"Why are you crying? Are you okay?" she spoke again, calmer
"You're hurt, did someone hurt you?" she spoke again, but hedid not respond
"I wish I could help you," she said then turned her head andtook a step away
"No!"
"So that's how you sound like," she smiled, "I just thoughsomeone was outside,"
"Outside," he didn't know what shocked him the most,"Outside," or the smile
...
Stories of fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters,friends and enemies, of despair in the walls and hope
beyond it kept themtalking for what seemed hours
This isn't real
He reminded himself
But I don't care
A noise from the girl's side of the mirror shocked them both
"I have to go," shewhispered
"No!"
"Take care of yourself, I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay,"
That's what she said
But she never came back
But it's alright
I'll just keep waiting