Scar

I slept well, but not very long. The sunlight and gibberish of my baby nephew were too sharp. I threw the sheet over my head and curled up. Then I cleared my throat three times and the rumbling consumed my ear drums. I peaked behind the sheets and saw my wife walk from the kitchen to the living room where my nephew rolled around on the floor. She held the same green mug she's been drinking out of since we moved in. Tea is a good idea, a smart idea, for my throat I thought. Last night it was on the verge of soreness and the vitamin C drop that fizzled in my glass of water worked mildly. The Vicks cough drop chaser didn't work at all.

I moved out of bed quickly but walked slowly to the bathroom. As I treaded on the tiled floor I snapped off the mash from around my eyes and rubbed my eyelids so that I could fill them with moisture. Once I reached the sink I looked up and then fell back so suddenly I crashed into the shower curtain and sat violently onto the ground. I complained silently for half a dozen moments then rushed back to the mirror. I didn't see my face anymore. Instead, I looked like the dread-locked fruit seller I met yesterday. I tried every mirror in the house and I could not escape his face. My wife screamed when she finally tracked me down spellbound in front of the full length mirror in our bedroom. She demanded to know where the blood came from.

I told her what I saw in the mirror and she believed me, but was skeptical of my state of mind. I stopped the bleeding from the back of my head then showered for half an hour. I felt better, was definitely fresher, but still had the face of the dread locked man. I prayed for the next two hours and the checked the mirror immediately after. Nothing changed. Until the next day.

When I looked into the mirror the following morning I laughed, the loudest I laughed that entire week. I no longer shared the face of the man who sold me fruit. Now I looked like a young version of George Clooney with a shaved head. This went on for days. I had to look at my passport every night before bed so I could remember who I was. Who I am. I dressed myself the same. Kissed my wife the same. Checked my email the same. Spoke with the same accent and humor. No one treated me differently so I just avoided looking into all mirrors.

Eventually the faces of the people I knew started changing as well. They became strangers. I couldn't tell my boss from the Fed Ex delivery man. I had no choice but to treat everyone like they were my closest comrade. Then, by accident I looked into the mirror while I was brushing my teeth one evening and I was me again. Looked like me again. I think. My face changed so many times that me could just be a random guy with handsome features and a scar on his left temple.