The Mirror
It... it's impossible."
His concentration was so great that he didn't know he had spoken aloud. He closed one eye entirely, then opened it, slowly, Hoping against hope, he then worked his tongue into a corner of his cheek and rotated it about. He watched. Stared. A pulse was drumming fiercely in his forehead as he backed away from the mirror.
He had first noticed it a short time ago; seven days to be exact. It is logical to suppose that he would have known of it sooner if he had been a vainer man. Most certainly, then, he would have looked into mirrors a great deal oftener.
But Jay Swarz was a mild man; a meek man; a man completely devoid of ego. He wore his habits the way he wore his clothes... soberly. He did not sin; he would not. He did not cheat; he could not. Three drinks before dinner and his reactions unmistakably informed him that he'd had enough. He was like that.
Once again he shot a covert glance at the mirror. There it was ... plain to see...
Jay Swarz had been brought up properly. But that is an expression that has lost its true meaning. To speak with exactitude, it is better to say that he had been brought up primly.
In an era where modesty was considerably more than a fetish; an era where the most innocuous words called down condemnation upon the luckless user. Jay Swarz' family proudly outdid themselves in righteous self-effacement.
Completely cloaked with the mantle of selflessness ... or so they insisted ... they balanced themselves with practiced step upon the tightrope of virtue. No matter the season, their bodies were swathed in layer upon layer of raiment. Indoors, their comportment was such as to assure them frontrow seats in the heavenly orchestra of harpists ... or so they insisted.
Jay had never been one to rebel. He was the sort born to accept orders unquestioningly. If, even in the privacy of one's room, it was immodest and wrong to undress before dousing the lights, he carefully put out the lights before removing his breeches. His parents had instructed him. He obeyed them. It he had to go to the lavatory it would never do to say so. That would have been grievously shocking. Any simple excuse to leave the room was acceptable under those conditions... but never the immodest truth.
But all these bugaboos paled before the one strict immutable rule that pervaded the Swarz household. Serving the
It was only a week ago that his reflection had abruptly rebelled.
95
