The Mirror

A man found a mirror
said to change the lives
of those who owned it.

Every morning, he looked at it.

He adjusted his hair.

“Perfect,” he said.
“Perfect,” the mirror replied.

He smiled.

The next day,
he adjusted his collar.

“Perfect,” he said.
“Perfect,” it replied.

He began to trust it.

Each morning,
he made a small change.

A little here.
A little there.
A little better.

“Perfect,” he said.
“Perfect,” it answered.

In time, it was hard to tell
whether he admired the mirror
or his own image in it.

The mirror was small.
It showed only part of him at a time.

So he adjusted what he could see.
Day after day.

One side of his face changed.
The other did not.
They diverged more and more.

People noticed.
He did not.

But the man was the mayor.

Everyone remained silent.

After some time,
there was a festival.

He stood before the crowd.

He spoke.
People listened.

Some looked at him.
Then at each other.

Suddenly,
a child burst into laughter.

The sound carried.
Everyone heard it.

No one laughed with him.

Then the child was pulled away.

The man smiled.

“Perfect,” he said again.
“Perfect,” the mirror replied.

And no one said otherwise.