The man looked at the mirror and asked his reflection to answer a question.
“What happens if it is love and not strong affection?
What are you going to do if you figure out that what thought had faded hadn’t burned out?
Are you going to keep it a secret and try to choke out the flame, dampen the embers so that you don’t face the hard questions.
Or are you going to tell her and see what she says? Are you going to give her a chance to participate?
What if she says no.
What if she says yes.”
The reflection didn’t provide any insight proving if nothing else this wasn’t a magic mirror or that if it was the genie behind the screen was bored, occupied or asleep.
“Damn you reflection and damn you woman. In the age of a worldwide pandemic I am forced to look at things differently and ask the questions you never really expect to ask.
No one really wonders or worries about what might happen if someone gets sick and dies because it doesn’t usually happen in anything but books, television and movies.”
He walked away from the mirror, shook his head, tied his shoes and walked outside.
Endless blue skies made it seem like the thunderstorms of the morning were part of a dream.
The weather felt perfect and the exercise helped clear his head and confirm he wasn’t imagining things or making shit up.
He thought about Whitman and thanked him for providing a reasonable but somewhat useless answer because what he wanted was a simple solution.
Except he wasn’t going to get that and though he knew it there was no denying interest in it.
Now he had to decide what the best path forward was and then follow it. Thing was he was pretty sure he knew what he would do and the more he thought about it the more he recognized it was what he always was going to do.
He sighed deeply, smiled and kept moving forward. Life was pretty fucking interesting, even if it and she were sometimes a pain-in-his-ass.