The room was white. Not just the walls and floor and ceiling, but everything. The bed along the one side, the chair in the corner, the dresser, the sink and the toilet. Even the door. And the light. I could hear it; a constant hum in my head.
I stood next to the bed, facing the wall, watching my reflection in the mirror. Only something seemed off. The room in which my reflection stood was identical, as was the person looking back at me. Every movement I made was perfectly mimicked. But the reflection was doing this thing with his eyes. They would close; only for a split second, but something I had never seen before.
“Who’s that in the mirror?” I asked out loud.
A computerised voice sounded over the intercom. “That, Subject D14, is your Original.”
“What-” I pressed, “What is he doing with his eyes?”
“Blinking.”
“Why?”
“I believe, Subject D14, that it is trying to cry.”
Response to the Word of the Day Challenge prompt: original
MS Poetry 