My boots are old now. They are still tight. They are good boots.

I wince, but get my other foot in. I hear voices from M’s room. There are no strange boots in the hall so, I walk over and peak in.

“Drink a glass of water before the bottle of wine and it will cancel out any negative side effects.”

It is M’s voice, but not his tone. I take a step deeper into the room.

“What about cigarettes?”  M’s voice again. But, this time it sounds like M.

I check around the corner. M is standing in front of the mirror. The M in the mirror begins talking.

“Exhale out your nose and it won’t ever reach your lungs.”

I clear my throat. M turns around.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Consulting my doctor.” He moves to the left and motions to the mirror. The M in the mirror smiles. His hair is different, neater. He is wearing a lab coat. The M standing in front of me is shirtless. I jump back.

“What the fuck is that?”

M frowns. “My doctor.”

“That’s you in a lab coat,” then, in case he doesn’t grasp the severity of the situation I add, “in a fucking mirror.”

M nods. “I don’t trust doctors so, I decided to become one myself.”

“Uh huh.” I manage. I move closer to the mirror, eyeing the cheap plastic frame suspiciously.

“Is this some sort of magic mirror?” I ask. The M in the mirror takes a step sideways.

“Nope!” his voice calls from the other room. I walk back out.

“In here.”

I look in the bathroom. “Doctor” M waves at me from the bathroom mirror.

“Are you always there?” I ask. The M in the mirror shrugs.


“So, you can, like, see me when I’m in there?”

The M in the Mirror nods guiltily.

“He doesn’t judge!” M, the three-dimensional one, calls from his bedroom.

“I really don’t. You know. But, just a tip, if you keep scratching those hemorrhoids they’re only going to get worse.” He smiles, sympathetically.

I stare at the M in the mirror, slack jawed.

“It’s true!” M calls from the other room.

“I’m going to get some bread,” I manage to say.

“I’m just trying to help,” M in the mirror says.

“Yeah, he’s a really good doctor.” M says, emerging from his room.

“I’m going to get some bread…” I say. I open the door.

“I’m going to get some bread,” I say as I descend the stairs.

“I’m going to get some bread,” I say to the woman behind the counter.

“I don’t understand,” she says, in Russian.

“Me either,” I tell her.

Author Benjamin Davis and artist Nikita Klimov created one story and one picture each day for one year. In May 2018 they published their first book, The King of FU

10 Comment on “The M in the Mirror

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