
There are mirrors bouncing light back and forth. Some reflect doors, or what seem to be doors, though they may just be other mirrors.
Space expands explosive to infinity. Time slows to treacle as I turn and turn. A chorus of selves, perfectly synchronised, pirouette with me.
After a time that may have been aeons, I make to leave. Approaching the door, another me steps up to bar my way. Trapped! But I know how to get round myself.
“Would you be so kind as to step aside?” I ask meekly.
“Sorry, not a chance,” replies the mirror self.
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Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here

Very good. Just how do we see ourselves?
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Thanks so much, James
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Up until that moment, I think he knew where he was. But who needs an unco-operative mirror self, at any time or place?
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It all went horribly wrong for him
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Very clever take! I love what you did here.
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Thanks so much, Violet
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Dear Neil,
What a predicament to find one’s self in. Guess you could say he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. Entertaining piece.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks so much, Rochelle
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So very clever Neil 🙌
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Thanks so much
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Neil, I noticed the mirror within the mirror also but didn’t know how to spin it (pun intended.) Good mind-bender!
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