Last night you brought this girl over that I’ve never seen before. I don’t know where you met her, when you met her, who of you flashed the first smile. I don’t know her name, and I’ll most likely never learn it, because this morning she disappeared again. Out of your room, out of my world, forever gone, but a memory that you forced me to watch in the twilight of your bedside lamp.

I saw her smile, but I never got a chance to taste the vermillion of her lipstick. I saw you put on one of those ancient records of yours, send the vinyl spinning, winking back at her as she started moving her hips to a melody I couldn’t hear. This morning, before you sent her away, I saw you baking pancakes with blueberries and cinnamon apples. I saw you brewing coffee, I even saw the steam rising from that shiny steel pot. But couldn’t smell a thing.

You don’t think about me very often, do you?

You leave me behind whenever you close the door behind you, leave me trapped in this smell-less, tasteless, dead silent world when you go out for whatever business you have out there. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of you, that’s for sure – an ephemeral second in a tailor’s shop, in a restaurant, in a public bathroom awash with stinging neon light. But you hardly ever even look at me.

I was always there for you, you know. I loved you, tried to imitate you in all the ways I could. I tried to be like you, move like you, dress like you, smile like you, live an ordinary live like you. You never even acknowledged any these vain attempts of mine.

I see you gleaming with joy when you put on your headphones or let whatever you like to listen to pour out of the stereo. I dance with you, and I try to replicate the pleasure written on your face, although I do not know what music even sounds like.

I try. I’ve always kept trying, and I’ll go on with it – as long as I can.

But I want you to know that there will come a time when I can’t keep up with it anymore. When I cannot bear your unspoken rejection – no, your simple, utter ignorance – any longer. There will come a time when I want you to know, my friend.

Maybe I’ll smile in a moment when you don’t feel like smiling.

Maybe I’ll take a step towards you when you are standing still.

Maybe I’ll just wink.

I know that would be enough: Enough for you to realize that there is someone else with you, has always been, ever longing – there, on the other side of the mirror.

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