Narcissus the Narcissist

“Ethan, are you ready yet?” Jessica’s voice drifted down the hall, sharp, like the clack-clack-clack of her heels against the hardwood floor. “We’re going to be late.” Impatient, as usual.

“Almost, Dear,” Ethan called back. His fingers slid through his hair which he coaxed into perfection. The brush lay forgotten on the counter. His movements meticulous. Deliberate. He leaned closer to the mirror. And inspected his work under the bathroom vanity’s warm light.

Jessica hated waiting. He could practically hear her pacing back and forth. Arms crossed over the black dress she’d bought, just for him. He grinned to himself. It wasn’t her night. No. Not really. Tonight was all about him. The Gala. The recognition. The award.

“Just a few more minutes, Love,” he murmured. But not loud enough for her to hear.

He straightened his jacked. The silk lapels captured specks of light. Boy, did it fit well. He ran a hand along his jawline. Felt the faint stubble he’d decided to leave—rugged. But not unkempt.

“Look at you,” he whispered. His reflection stared back. It was as every bit as flawless as he felt. A sharp jawline. Perfect tailored tux. Deep brown sparkling eyes like a movie star. “You’re killing it, Ethan”

His reflection seemed to agree.

“Ethan!” Jessica’s voice broke the spell. Sharper now. “I said, we’re going to be late!”

He ignored her. Just another minute wouldn’t hurt, would it? He tilted his head slightly. And studied his refection from another angle. He smiled. The reflection smiled back. Of course it did. All reflections do.

Ethan blinked. He titled his head the other way. Slower this time. The reflection moved with him. Perfectly synchronized.

But the smile—it stayed. Just a moment too long.

“Hmm.” He leaned closer. His forehead almost touched the glass. And his smile faded.

The reflection’s didn’t.

“What is wrong with this…” His voice caught in his throat. Its grin widened. Stretched unnaturally. It revealed a menacing gleam too bright under the light.

He stumbled back. His hand knocked over the brush on the counter. His pulse pounded against his eardrums. But the reflection didn’t follow him—it stayed right there. Smiling. Watching. Smiling.

“Ethan!” Jessica shouted again. Closer this time. Just outside the door. Then a clackity-clack-clack-clack away from the bathroom door.

He shook his head. Forced a laugh. “Stress,” he said. Just a mutter. “That’s all it is. Stress.”

When he looked again. The reflection was normal. Handsome. Confident. Like always.

He adjusted his tie. Smoothed his cuffs. And whispered, “Perfect.”

It smiled and reached through the glass…

Jessica stood by the front door. She clutched her purse. “Finally,” she said. Her tone clipped.

He grinned at her. “Sorry about that. I’m ready now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You okay?”

“Yeah…”

“You look a little different.”

“It must be my hair,” he said. His voice too smooth. Too…

Jessica hesitated. Her lips pressed into a thin line. But she didn’t push. She turned and walked out the door. “Good. We’re going to be late. Let’s go.” Her heels clacked against the porch steps. Ethan followed her into the night as he closed the door behind them.