The Mirror City
Fiction
A city made of mirrors, a layer of creativity scraped from a story told by his grandfather. In the story, people go paranoid, because, at some point, they start seeing reflections of their inner self everywhere in the city. What could have he seen if he were a citizen of the mirror city, he thinks. Mornings are mostly spent, thinking over selective pieces of conversations that he had had with someone.
Today he has an appointment with his psychologist. He is 28 and unmarried, and she is 35 and divorced, and most importantly, sexy. He does not have an issue, at least not any that he is aware of. Sexual frustrations can infringe on your morale. Two months back he searched for all lady psychologists on the city and settled on Miss Anuradha Iyengar. A passport photograph was enough for him to finalize her, but scrolling through her Instagram posts made him impatient. A divorced voluptuous brahmin woman in her thirties fits his preference. He imagined her at nights, and in one of his imaginations, they have a taboo relationship that they consummate at her office.
The traffic is normal for a Saturday with pleasant weather. He’s been living in this city for 3 years, and yet the roads of Bangalore are not familiar to him, he is a lousy navigator.
He walks into an empty clinic, which otherwise should have at least three other people not…
