Mise En Abîme

Step. Click. Step. Click. Step. Click

Justin Midna’s toes have had a tendency to crack with every step of his right foot since he can remember. They makes a clicking sound that usually doesn’t go unnoticed by others, so it’s something he’s always been a little self-conscious about.

Step. Click. Step. Click. Step. Click.

He steps onto the elevator, and hundreds of right feet finish that step with him. The walls are lined with mirrors, and as he presses the number 17, his many reflections do the same with him.

He is the only one standing here and now, but as he looks at the infinite reflections of himself, and as these reflections stare back at him, a peculiar feeling comes upon him. His reflections seem to be getting smaller and smaller until they reach a point where his eyes can’t reach. What lies beyond there? Is there a point where it ends? And does it end with a man, just like me, standing and staring at his infinite reflections? Is he wondering about me? Or is he just looking at himself in the mirror?

The doors open, and he steps out of this trance.

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