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Summary: Looking in a mirror, you have to wonder if your image really your own, or are you sharing it with someone else?
Liberated
by: chopsticks
g
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He stood before the row of mirrors, adjusting his plain but somehow perpetually classic tie. The harsh lighting (Fluorescent lights, he thought with disdain. The worst kind.) making his features appear sallow and, yes, he could admit it, old.
They were, for the first time in his life, uniquely his own.
He had never realized this before.
Looking closer, he noticed the light created pockmarks and imperfections that weren't really there. Idiosyncrasies that, he knew, had never been on his brother's face, even in this same lighting.
It was liberating. He felt as if a shadow he had never really noticed was finally gone.
Sydney was, for the first time, his own man, no longer sharing his physical identity.
Liberated at last.
-----
the end.
by: chopsticks
g
-----
He stood before the row of mirrors, adjusting his plain but somehow perpetually classic tie. The harsh lighting (Fluorescent lights, he thought with disdain. The worst kind.) making his features appear sallow and, yes, he could admit it, old.
They were, for the first time in his life, uniquely his own.
He had never realized this before.
Looking closer, he noticed the light created pockmarks and imperfections that weren't really there. Idiosyncrasies that, he knew, had never been on his brother's face, even in this same lighting.
It was liberating. He felt as if a shadow he had never really noticed was finally gone.
Sydney was, for the first time, his own man, no longer sharing his physical identity.
Liberated at last.
the end.
