While staring into that mirror, I also saw a reflection other than mine. I could make out the female form of the image but I could not give it a name or a face. She came towards me as if floating in air. Instead of turning around I continued to admire her reflection in the mirror itself, which soon turned hazy before diminishing into a dark halo. I closed my eyes because whatever was happening wasn’t voluntary. There was nothing to be seen, only felt. Her left hand gripped my shoulder while she ruffled my fluffy hair with the right. I could vaguely make out her nose nestling near my neck. Her scent absolved me of the stage freight. Her lips brushed against my ear as she whispered, “Kalsh, thank god it’s you.”
7 Ways Through Sunday 
And your point is...