Writers' Group exercise. 10 minutes: The visitor. Who or what came to the house and what did they take, or leave?
In the mirror. There. Quick. See it? No. Just shadows - reflections from the window-prisms, sunlight dancing in the early evening. The sun is low on the horizon, the sky is blood-orange and the reflections are strange in my mirror.
Put the light on. Bold halogen from the ceiling to crush prism-light with its harsh and unforgiving glare. In the mirror nothing changes. Still reflected rainbows pulse behind the glass.
Peer into the depths. What? What's there? Who's there? Shadows lengthen, indigo-blue-green sparkles out into the room.
Touch the glass. Cold; soft - yielding. Ripples from a pebble. Hand, arm, body. Life.