I was about to leave the house and looked in the mirror to adjust my blue jacket and shirt. I noticed that my reflection was wearing a red shirt. I looked at her carefully to understand if there was any particular reflection or play of light; however, from any angle I tried to look at it, the shirt in the mirror shirt was always red.
I looked down at my chest; my shirt was blue. I looked up at the mirror; the reflected shirt was red. I looked down: blue. I looked up: red.
I paused to reflect on the situation and imagined that perhaps the mirror could be faulty. However, this was the first time such a thing had happened to me, and besides, that was the only colour of all those reflections that didn’t match the rest of the reflection.
I inched closer to the mirror, I backed off, I moved left and right, but the shirt in the reflection was always red.
I turned away from the mirror and took a few steps in the opposite direction of the mirror and suddenly I whirled around: red shirt.
I took off my jacket, then my shirt, and put it back on; it was blue in my hands, but it was red both inside and out in the reflection. I put on the shirt again. I leaned close to the mirror, almost touching it. I was so close that, looking down, I could see both the blue shirt I was wearing and the red one in the reflection simultaneously.
Instinctively I raised my hand to touch the reflected image, but I noticed that my hand did not stop in contact with the mirror’s surface and instead entered it. The image remained perfectly mirrored; I no longer saw my hand and part of my forearm as in the mirror.
My arm and its reflection appeared to merge into a single piece. I pushed my arm even further, deep into the mirror, forward, then the shoulder; I also put a foot, the leg, and the rest of the body. I was inside the mirror.
Then, I turned around, and I saw my reflection. I was wearing a blue shirt. I looked down at my chest; I was wearing a red shirt, finally. I took the keys, went out the door and went into the city.