by Ed's Poofed Hair

Their hands locked into place again, like magnets on a refrigerator, and his mother pulled him out of the room. The hallway was short and ordinary, but Bobby saw something more, something greater. As they passed by the big mirrors again, he touched the cold glass and pretended that there was a hallway right next to theirs, a hallway where everything would be exactly the same for the rest of eternity, as if it were under a spell, even though his dad said that couldn't happen. If people were to touch the mirror, then, they would be able to touch their counterpart's fingers, feel their touch, their warmth, their soul. Except nobody ever really touched mirrors, and even if they did it didn't matter because they probably didn't think about it like he did. He wished he could talk to the other Bobby, but he knew that that Bobby was under a spell to just say everything he said, and that they were trapped to follow each other's movements like the magnets on the refrigerator.


Ed's Poofed Hair is not much these days.


Anonymous said...

I love your name. Eds poofed hair. So...amazing. I'm serious.

Madam Z said...

Ed's Poofed Hair has described vividly and poetically the way I feel, when I look into a mirror. I had never thought of "the magnets on the refrigerator" analogy though. But I will, from now on, when I "touch my counterpart's fingers."