Short Story: The Man In The Mirror

He came to be what he knew he would be. But within, it is not what he hoped to be.

It was surreal, seeing the "plan" staring back at him in the mirror. Before him stood what he was groomed to be. So they celebrated. A success story... that wasn't his. In a way he was happy. He knew not of anything else but that which was narrated to him. It was the platform for his being. So he be.

Father was beaming with pride. He had long waited for a substitute. His alternative. His successor.
Mother crying tears of joy. Her son is a man. And she was sure she made that.
So he stood there as the applause of the well-groomed and highly mannered eluded the grand foyer. Champagne bottles have been popped open and everyone suddenly had his hands on theirs as he shook back one greeter from another.

Then a sudden slideshow. Life is flashing before his eyes as he became oblivious to the present celebration. Just as well, people were chattering away, amongst each other, boasting of own success stories. He stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity.

He was suddenly at his 30s. Pile of reports on his desk at what seemed to be a cold and stiff office. He looked out and realized it is way past dinner time. He blinked and opened his eyes to a 40 year old self, with numerous people demanding something from him, making him sign documents and dragging him from one meeting to another. Then home- barely uttering a word to his wife, barely having the energy to play with the doe eyed twins begging but not speaking to bond with their daddy. 50... 60... it played on and on- his life doing the "plan", being the plan.

It was surreal, seeing the "plan" staring back at him on the mirror. Before him stood what he was groomed to be. But his reflection wasn't his. It wasn't him.

It will not be his.

He smiled. His hands tugged his tie as he let the tux fall from his shoulders. There wasn't a guide to this. 

In a way  he was scared. He knew not of anything else but that which was narrated to him. It was the platform for his being. 

Yet, he was walking away. 

And surprisingly, he was happy.

It was a success story... that's finally his.

--END--



© Sol Felice Alvarado | The Belle Of A Boulevard Blog