I had to stare into the mirror, and ask why it didn't come to my aid -- all the while it had promised to, that is all it ever promised to do. That is what it claimed to exist for. Mother said 'don't stare too long', smoke escaping a cigarette in a hurry to cloud the ceiling of the bathroom, 'there's demons in the reflection'. Now I limp with heavy steps over the linoleum, my hand clutching the pillars by the grooves in the ivory, listening to the whispers of God between the cavernous slits in the foundation; a patch of nettles pressed against my wounds.