He sat at his desk unable to write. Something he had done for many years with no qualms or disturbances beforehand. This was a most unusual feeling for him. Work was fun to him. The spreadsheets, the maths, all of that was a world he was familiar with. A different kind of language that did not need emotions or a sorry or even a thank you. It had been over fourteen years since he had seen her, left her that late afternoon on the edge of the woods. He hadn’t given it much thought since had he been honest with himself. That was something he became very good at, blocking certain memories out. Yet, for him to even begin putting pen to paper, reliving those memories, would be a whole lot more than necessary. It would be vital. An apology from the heart is what she deserved after all. All those years wondering where he had gone. There had been no phones then in which to track him. One minute they were together and the next they were strangers. The five previous years clearly an indication of nothing. A meaningless flitter of laughs and cries that ultimately fell on deaf ears. Her face. He remembered seeing her face in the wing mirror. That was the one thing that did stay with him and an image he could never shake.

He would see it when on the way to work, the bus’ wing mirror staring back at him whilst waiting to get on. He stopped getting the bus after a while. The train was about the only place void of reflections but even then, early starts meant the windows on the train turned into one long bathroom mirror. In those fourteen years he would have expected to forget what she looked like. He even managed to for a few months. He worked from home and took down the mirror on the bathroom cabinet, brushing his teeth was just about manageable that way.

She had almost disappeared from memory until Christmas rolled around. His parents would not listen to his excuses this time, forcing him to come over for the roast this year. He’d have to put up with the questions and his sister’s fiancé, but that was not what did it. His parents had handed him over a box shaped present which he reluctantly unwrapped. Presents at Christmas had never been his thing, especially seeing as he was trying to avoid any unnecessary attention this year. Pulling down the wrapping paper he saw the picture of a small mirror on a swivel. ‘Bout time you had a shave’, his dad said laughing, the others chuckled with him, ‘go on then, open it up’. Hesitant didn’t begin to describe how he felt, thinking if he got the formality of smiling out the way, his parents would go back to praising his sister. He yanked at the object in the box, and it suddenly came loose. There it was the shaving mirror looking back at him in shock. He had not seen his face this close for months. He had barely recognised himself. His face was a lot hairier and podgier; the evening beers had taken its toll. As he began to touch his face, discovering his aging-self, she appeared behind his shoulder. All those months vanished in that moment as he was back to the way he felt on his morning commute. She had never left. She was stood behind his shoulder all this time, only he could never see her. Without a reflection, she didn’t exist.