I point my next-to-the-middle finger at you. But the rest pointing me back. A metaphoric entry.

A ringing phone bring me back to life. That's when I noticed there was someone stand right in front of me. But it was a bit blur. The dim light portrayed only a few part of his face and body.

"Who are you? How can you be here in my room?"

There was a weird look on his face. I draw myself closer and reach for his hand. He too. Our fingers touch. He was so cold. I can feel it. A number of questions rushed through my mind.

"Are you sick? What's the problem with you?"

To my surprise he just repeating what I says. Annoyingly. And it's really pissed me off.

"What the fuck with you dude? Why in hell you keep repeating my words?"

He stood there still silence.

"Dude I'm talking to you. Answer me. Or are you deaf or something?"

Silence.

"Fuck you."

I totally lost it. My palm has already transformed into Mohammad Ali boxing glove. I look at him closely. Close enough that I can see the shape of him. And that's when i realized.

"A mirror? I was talking to myself all this while?"