It was one of those calm, peaceful afternoons that calm you down, with the peace of the open field and the gentle rustle of leaves all around you. I leaned against the car, enjoying the peace and the light as I thought about spending a small portion of my day with my wife. The truck looked fantastic against the trees, so I snapped a fast photo and emailed it off without hesitation.
The response, which came almost instantly, was not what I had anticipated.
The person in the mirror is who?
I frowned as I read his words again, not sure what he meant. There had been no sign of anyone. “What sort of introspection?” I typed back, a little uncomfortable.
“The rear window.” Then he said, “There’s someone there,” in a more solemn tone.
I opened the photo and stared at the reflection in the rear window, my heart pounding. At first, I assumed it was merely a glare, either a trick of the sun or a shadow cast by a tree. But as I took a closer look, my stomach ached. The thin outline of a person standing just behind me was, in fact, a figure. The shape grew more recognizable the more I examined it. A man wearing a hat, the shadow of the brim hiding his face.
I gasped. It resembled the cap that my ex-boyfriend wore, which he was rarely seen without.
I felt cold. Hadn’t I been by myself? The field was deserted, just the vehicle and I, and I hadn’t seen anyone when I shot the photo. However, he was clearly visible, standing close enough to be seen in the reflection of the window. How could this have happened?
I gave a hurried response in an attempt to reassure my husband. “It’s most likely just a background shadow or something.” I was by myself, for sure. However, even I sensed my own hesitancy when I spoke.
His answer returned with a resolute mistrust. It doesn’t appear to be a shadow. It appears to be him.
My stomach rumbled. It didn’t seem genuine, and I knew precisely who he was referring to. It seemed as though my history had unexpectedly entered that peaceful afternoon and caught me off guard in a way that I was unable to fully explain. Is it possible that my ex was in the area without my knowledge? Or did it just happen to look exactly like him, a horrible coincidence?It was one of those calm, peaceful afternoons that calm you down, with the peace of the open field and the gentle rustle of leaves all around you. I leaned against the car, enjoying the peace and the light as I thought about spending a small portion of my day with my wife. The truck looked fantastic against the trees, so I snapped a fast photo and emailed it off without hesitation.
The response, which came almost instantly, was not what I had anticipated.
The person in the mirror is who?
I frowned as I read his words again, not sure what he meant. There had been no sign of anyone. “What sort of introspection?” I typed back, a little uncomfortable.
“The back window.” “Someone is there,” he said, his voice abruptly grave.
With my heart racing, I opened the picture and focused on the reflection in the back window. I initially thought it was just a glare, perhaps a trick of the sun or a tree shadow. But my gut wrenched as I looked at it more intently. The thin outline of a person standing just behind me was, in fact, a figure. The shape grew more recognizable the more I examined it. A man wearing a hat, the shadow of the brim hiding his face.
I gasped. It resembled the cap that my ex-boyfriend wore, which he was rarely seen without.
I felt cold. Hadn’t I been by myself? The field was deserted, just the vehicle and I, and I hadn’t seen anyone when I shot the photo. However, he was clearly visible, standing close enough to be seen in the reflection of the window. How could this have happened?
I gave a hurried response in an attempt to reassure my husband. “It’s most likely just a background shadow or something.” I was by myself, for sure. However, even I sensed my own hesitancy when I spoke.
His answer returned with a resolute mistrust. It doesn’t appear to be a shadow. It appears to be him.
My stomach rumbled. It didn’t seem genuine, and I knew precisely who he was referring to. It seemed as though my history had unexpectedly entered that peaceful afternoon and caught me off guard in a way that I was unable to fully explain. Is it possible that my ex was in the area without my knowledge? Or did it just happen to look exactly like him, a horrible coincidence?
I stared at the photograph, studying the subject in the mirror. The headgear and his posture were all too familiar. I tried to convince myself otherwise, but the anxiety remained. What if he was actually lurking just outside of my current situation?
I contacted my husband, my voice shaking, and tried to explain that it must have been some weird coincidence. But there was a palpable sense of uncertainty in the silence on the other end of the telephone. His voice sounded distant and guarded when he spoke. Slowly, he said, “I don’t know.” “That reflection is not a coincidence, in my opinion.”
After the call ended, I sat there staring down at the picture that seemed to capture much more than a fleeting moment of my day. The faint silhouette of a man in the distance appeared to be a shadow, bringing back a memory I had thought had been settled.
There appeared to be a change in our relationship in the days that followed, one that neither of us was able to completely address. The image of that figure in the reflection, an inexplicable mystery and a disturbing reminder of my past, hung over us. It felt like the tiny, hardly noticeable reflection had destroyed our mutual trust, even though I attempted to assure him it was nothing and that I had been alone.The sudden change had cast a shadow from which none of us could ever fully emerge. It had begun as a simple picture of some time spent together. And that small, unsettling fact made us think about what should have been clear.
