It was clear to H that the man in the mirror was his sworn enemy. Too often he'd seen his eyes twitch, his fingers tremble, his lips move. The offenses were getting more and more obvious. H did not know how he'd gotten there, this impostor, or what had happened to his original reflection, but it was obvious he meant only harm to H, a quiet man with few friends.
"You'll never get anywhere," the impostor abruptly told H in his car's rearview, as he drove to meet his boss for lunch. "Stop this nonsense. He'll never promote you."
On the event of a first date with a lovely young woman, he told H: "You don't belong with her. This is a farce." H ran a comb through his hair, and the impostor imitated the action, poorly. "You're stupid and ugly. She's much better than you."
After months of this, H had had enough. Ignoring the impostor was getting harder and harder to do. He bought a pistol and stood before the mirror, holding it to his own forehead. "Keep it up," he told the impostor, "and you'll regret it."
"You wouldn't dare," the impostor said, and of course he was right.
H, frustrated, furious, swung the pistol and shattered the mirror into a thousand pieces ... each of which contained a miniature impostor, imprisoned, who leapt and swore and shouted rude remarks.
This pleased H. The thousand impostors were tiny and ridiculous; their insignificant voices now amassed into a single bland sound, a senseless white noise that was easy to ignore. H left the shards where they lay. They would be mirror enough for him now.
Inside the broken pieces, a thousand puny likenesses raised their fists and spat at him. "I'll get you!" said one. "No, I will!" said another. They reflected each other, these reflections, and soon were fiercely bickering amongst themselves. Their insults and verbal abuse quickly reached a furious pitch. It was quite clear that they'd forgotten all about H, who, whistling a happy tune, put on his hat and coat and left for work.
