Lights glimmered, undulating with the slap and slip of the waves. The early morning air was still and cool. And he saw, saw the whole thing.
“I know where it’s gone,” he shouted.
“Where? What?” she asked.
“Half the universe is missing. Dark matter–it’s there, in the mirror world.” He pointed at the reflection.
A pigeon looked up, shook its head, and took lazy flight, feathers rustling like a ladies’ fan.
“Actually,” she said, “more like 85% of the universe.”
His shoulders slumped. “Bugger! I thought I’d cracked the problem.”
“Tea?” she suggested.