Reflections
He sat with his legs crossed and arms folded in his lap, watching silently as the scene unfolded in front of him. His point of view moved with expert direction, making the image an almost perfect reproduction. He felt as if he could reach out and touch the world it was showing.
A short story by Daniel Verastiqui
© Daniel Verastiqui. All Rights Reserved.
He sat with his legs crossed and arms folded in his lap, watching silently as the scene unfolded in front of him. His point of view moved with expert direction, making the image an almost perfect reproduction. He felt as if he could reach out and touch the world it was showing. He could smell the girl's perfume as she bounce-stepped down the stairs. The boy was walking up the stairs and the two met at a landing. They spoke and the words evoked from him a curious smile. He uncrossed and recrossed his legs as the scene trembled, rippled in mid-air, and changed to a darkened bedroom.
He had found the building quite by accident on his morning stroll through the main quad. Today, standing at the intersection, he had decided to turn right instead of left. The building looked like a museum from the outside, coated in silver with bright blue windows. Much of the world around him was reflected in those windows. Appropriately, a large plaque over the entrance read "Reflections, Ltd." Having no commitments until the inquiry later that evening, he decided to investigate. The main lobby was a large rectangle running straight through the building. He could see the grass and trees on the other side, along with another set of doors that people were coming and going through. The walls were lined with rectangular displays. He mistook them for regular televisions until he noticed that the images on them seemed liquid, or like smoke trapped in a bottle. Several of the displays had people standing in front of them, laughing and pointing. He saw only a blank screen and wondered if the building was perhaps a mental institution of some sort.