Entered in a 100 word Drabble Contest in Third Floor Corridor.
In Front of the Mirror:
He stood in front of the mirror, silently. Staring, always staring.
He hated this! Yet he couldn't stop, he had to see Him, only once more. At least that's what he told himself, but he knew he would be back.
He didn't dare touch the glass, because then that would prove that it wasn't real. That the image presented to him, forlorn and depressing, would be nothing but his reflection. He couldn't stop. He was missing his other half, the least he could have was a few minutes of pretending that the face he was staring at was his brother's.