NEW FICTION:

He shifted his hand so that it flickered across the mirror, as if his fingers were trailing through shallow water. He concentrated on the moment, spaced through the look of his fingers as they trailed, concentrated on the small vibrations his fingertips made as they spasmed across the paper-thin smoothness of the glass. He hummed quietly to himself as the overhead light swayed in a silent room with no breeze. He continued to hum, continued to stretch his fingers around and through its reflection. He moved his head so that it followed the rhythm of the overhead light. He thought of nothing but the movement of his fingers, of the coolness of the mirror, the silence of the room, the swaying of the overhead light.