Through the world’s mirror

Finally, gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and opened the door. The room greeted him with its usual semi-darkness, mess, and the smell of old books, dust, and loneliness. But today everything seemed alien, detached. It was as if he was looking at his life from the outside, observing it from a bird’s-eye view.

His gaze fell on the old globe Jean-Pierre had given him. It stood on the table, covered in a layer of dust, as if forgotten by everyone. Michael went over to it and began slowly spinning it, running his fingers over the familiar names of countries and cities.

America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia… The world was so huge, so diverse, so full of mysteries and secrets. And he, Michael, sat in his little room, in his little town, and saw none of it, knew none of it. It was as if he was living in a cage, voluntarily depriving himself of freedom.

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, an idea struck him: what if he dropped everything and went traveling? Saw the world with his own eyes, met different cultures, encountered different people, felt the taste of real freedom, found new sources of inspiration, found himself.

The idea seemed crazy, unreal, impossible. But it didn’t let him go; it pulled him like a magnet. He understood this was his only chance to break out of this vicious circle, out of this meaningless routine.

He remembered Aurora’s words that he had to save himself. He realized this was his salvation. He needed to leave, to forget all his problems, to start a new life with a clean slate.

The decision matured instantly, like a fruit that had been ripening for a long time and was finally ready. He no longer hesitated, doubted, or feared. He knew it was the right step, it was his destiny.

The next morning, Michael, mustering his courage, told Chloe and Bill about his decision.

Chloe, as always, reacted stormily and emotionally. She threw her arms around his neck, kissed both cheeks, and shouted: «Michael, you’re a genius! That’s an amazing idea! I always knew you weren’t like everyone else. You’re a real adventurer, a dreamer, a rebel!»

She hugged him again and added: «Be sure to take your camera! Shoot everything you see, everything you feel. I want to see the world through your eyes!»

Bill, as always, was more reserved and laconic. He listened to Michael carefully, then shook his hand and said: «Well, kid, it’s your choice. And I respect it. But remember, wherever you go, you can’t run away from yourself. Your problems, your fears, your hopes will always be with you.»

He looked him straight in the eye and added: «And don’t forget that ’a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.» The main thing is to take that step. After that, everything will work out.»

In the last days before his departure, Michael was busy preparing for the journey. He sold almost all his belongings, leaving only the essentials: his camera, a few lenses, a change of clothes, and, of course, his beloved notepad. He bought a one-way plane ticket and wrote farewell letters to his friends, promising to return someday when he found himself.

Just before leaving, he went to Alex’s cafe to say goodbye. He stood in front of the door for a long time, not daring to enter. It hurt to remember what had happened between them, how he had tried to help him and how it had all ended.

Finally, gathering his courage, he entered the cafe. Alex, as always, was behind the counter, pouring coffee. He didn’t even look up when he saw Michael.

«I’m leaving,» Michael wrote. «Wanted to say goodbye. Thank you for everything.»

Alex shook his hand without looking up and without saying a word. His face was impenetrable, like a mask.

Leaving the cafe, Michael felt a piercing pain in his chest. He realized their friendship was over, that he had lost Alex forever. But he didn’t dwell on it. He knew he had to move on, that something new, something important awaited him.

He headed to the airport, feeling his heart fill with anxiety and excitement. What awaited him ahead? What trials would he have to face? What discoveries would he make?

In the waiting lounge, he took out his notepad and wrote: «The road calls. I am setting off in search of truth. I want to see the world with my own eyes, to feel its taste, to touch it with my own hands. I want to find my place in this huge world, to find my path, to find myself. I don’t know what lies ahead, but I believe everything will be alright. I have to believe.»

Closing the notepad, he stood up and headed for the departure gate. He walked with a confident stride, not looking back. A new life awaited him.

And when the plane, gaining speed, lifted off the ground and soared into the sky, Michael felt his heart fill with boundless freedom. He was flying towards his destiny.

Chapter 5 Angel in a Puddle

Rain in the City of Sins is not just a weather phenomenon; it’s part of its soul. It washes away the glitter and tinsel, exposing the city’s true essence: its sadness, its loneliness, its beauty. It was in such moments that Michael felt especially acute, as if becoming part of this huge, seething organism.

He loved to wander the wet streets, like an artist seeking inspiration. He watched as neon signs blurred in puddles, as reflections of houses, like ghosts, danced on the water’s surface, as passersby, hastily sheltering under umbrellas, rushed about their business, noticing nothing around them. In these moments, he felt somewhat detached, like an observer from the outside.

One evening, returning home after work at Alex’s cafe, he saw her. She stood on a corner of a busy street, as if she had stepped out of the pages of an old book. She was wearing a long, dark green coat that hid the contours of her figure, but even so, she exuded an aristocratic refinement. A large hood covered most of her face, but even what remained visible was striking in its beauty.

The street wasn’t in the best condition, so right in front of her, on the asphalt, was a large puddle, like a mirror, reflecting her face. And in this reflection, Michael saw not just a beautiful woman, but an angel. Seriously, without any exaggeration, the reflection was simply magical, unearthly. The light from a streetlamp played on her face, creating a halo around her head, and her eyes seemed to glow from within.

She seemed an unearthly being who had descended from heaven to touch this dirty and sinful city for just a moment. A thought flashed through Michael’s head: «Maybe this is the very soul I’ve been searching for so long? The soul I must capture in my photographs?»

He automatically took out his old camera, wanting to capture this moment, this angelic image. He wanted to stop time, to preserve this beauty forever. He had already started adjusting the focus, but then something unexpected happened.

As if sensing his gaze, as if reading his thoughts, she suddenly raised her head and looked directly at him. Their eyes met, and Michael felt an electric shock run through him.

He abruptly lowered the camera, embarrassed, as if caught in some indecent act. He felt the color rise to his cheeks.

Their eyes met for only a moment, but it was enough for Michael to feel something irreversibly change inside him. He felt an inexplicable attraction to this woman, a desire to know her, to touch her soul, to tell her about himself, about his dreams, about his fears.

She tilted her head slightly, as if studying him, as if trying to solve his mystery, and smiled faintly. Her smile was strange, as if she knew something about him that he himself didn’t know. That smile drove him crazy.

And then suddenly, as if frightened by something, she turned and walked quickly away, disappearing into the crowd of passersby. She dissolved into the air, like a mirage.

Michael stood for a long time, as if paralyzed, unable to move. He watched her go until she disappeared from view. He felt he had missed something important, that this fleeting glance could have changed his life forever.

Deciding to learn more about her, he started looking for her on social media. But he only found an account on one of them, with no photos, no followers, no posts. A real mystery.

Bitter memories of Lisa and her words surfaced in his mind: «I’m sorry, Michael, I already have someone, and I don’t want to lose him.» He felt a pang of jealousy, even though he had no right to this woman. He didn’t want to experience that feeling of disappointment and pain again.

«Or maybe it’s just my imagination?» he thought, «Maybe I just dream too much? Maybe I’m just going crazy in this City of Sins?»

Deciding he had nothing to lose, Michael mustered his courage and returned to the same spot the next evening, hoping to see her again. And what was his surprise when he saw her, standing on the same corner, under the same streetlamp, in the same coat. It was as if she was waiting for him.

Seeing Michael, she smiled slightly and gestured for him to come closer. Then she took a small notepad out of her purse and wrote: «Was I waiting for you?».

Michael’s heart beat so hard it felt like it would jump out of his chest. He couldn’t believe his eyes — she really had been waiting for him. Was it fate? Or just a coincidence, a trick of chance? In any case, he wasn’t going to miss this chance.

He approached her, trying to look as casual as possible, even though a hurricane of emotions was raging inside him. He studied her, as if trying to memorize every detail, every little thing. Up close, she seemed even more mysterious and alluring than in the puddle’s reflection.

He noticed a tiny mole above her upper lip, like a randomly scattered star, long, thick eyelashes framing her eyes, and a barely visible scar on her chin that gave her face a special charm. These small details made her unique, special, alive.

He wanted to say something, to greet her, to introduce himself, but the words stuck in his throat. He remembered his muteness and felt despair wash over him. Was he doomed to silence, misunderstanding, loneliness again?

Gathering his courage, Michael took out his well-worn notepad and wrote: «I couldn’t not come back. You… you’re like an angel descended from heaven.»

The girl smiled slightly, and her eyes lit up with a mysterious light. Then she took a small notepad from her coat pocket and wrote: «Angels don’t smoke cheap cigarettes and don’t stand on dirty streets in the rain waiting for who knows who.»

Michael was embarrassed and wrote: «You are an exception to the rule.»

Aurora was silent for a moment, as if pondering his words, then wrote: «My name is Aurora. Something like the northern lights. And I already know you. Your work is not bad, though there are too many gloomy colors.»

Michael was surprised. How did she know his name? How did she know about his photographs? Had she been watching him?

He looked at her questioningly.

Aurora, as if reading his thoughts, wrote: «Your photographs speak for themselves. I especially like the shot of the old saxophonist.»

Michael was pleased that she was familiar with his work, that she saw something special in it. But at the same time, he felt a little awkward, as if she had looked into his soul.

Aurora, squinting, looked at him curiously and wrote: «Why don’t you speak? Are you shy? Or afraid of saying the wrong thing?»

Michael, sighing, took out his notepad and wrote: «I’m mute. Since childhood.»

Surprise mixed with sympathy flashed across Aurora’s face. She wrote: «Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m very sorry.»

Michael shrugged. «It doesn’t matter,» he wrote. «I’m used to it. The main thing is that you’re not disappointed in me.»

Aurora frowned. «Why should I be disappointed in you? You haven’t done anything wrong. Or have you?»

She looked at him questioningly, as if waiting for a confession.

Michael wrote: «What do you want from me?»

Aurora smiled, and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. «I want to see the world through your eyes,» she wrote. «To know what you feel, what you think, what you dream about.»

Michael felt his heart beat faster. He knew Aurora was speaking sincerely, that she really wanted to know him.

He wrote: «That’s impossible. You can’t see the world through my eyes. Everyone sees the world in their own way.»

Aurora thought, then wrote: «Maybe you’re right. But we can try. We can share our thoughts, our feelings, our experiences with each other. And then, perhaps, we can come a little closer to understanding each other.»

Michael felt a little sad. He understood that Aurora was right, that he could never fully understand another person, see the world through their eyes. But he could try, he could strive for it.

He wrote: «I still want to try. Even if it’s impossible.»

Aurora smiled, and that smile illuminated everything around. «Okay,» she wrote. «Let’s try. But be warned, it won’t be easy. Are you ready for difficulties?»

Michael’s heart filled with joy and hope. He was ready for anything for this woman.

He nodded his head vigorously, showing his agreement.

Aurora wrote: «Tomorrow I’ll be here at the same time. If you really want to, come. But don’t expect miracles from me. I’m not a sorceress, and I have my own skeletons in the closet too.»

Michael squeezed her hand in gratitude.

Aurora smiled and wrote: «Until tomorrow, photographer.»

She turned and, as if dancing, walked away, leaving Michael alone in the rain. But he no longer felt cold or lonely. His heart was filled with warmth and hope.

The next day, Michael came to the same place long before the appointed time. He couldn’t sit at home for a minute. He paced nervously back and forth, constantly checking his watch. Time seemed to drag on endlessly.

He was so engrossed that he didn’t even notice Aurora approaching him from behind and lightly touching his shoulder.

«Hi, photographer,» she wrote on a piece of paper. «Am I late?»

Michael’s heart pounded wildly, like a bird locked in a cage. She had really come. She had waited for him. He wasn’t mistaken. It was incredible, unthinkable, but it was really happening.

Aurora stood nearby, smiling her mysterious smile. This time she was wearing a long, bright red coat that seemed to radiate warmth and light in this gray and dreary city. Her dark hair was loose and slightly damp from the rain, softly framing her face, making her look like the heroine of an old movie. Her eyes shone with an inner light, holding a mischievous spark and an inexplicable sadness.

«Hi,» Michael wrote, barely restraining the trembling in his hands. He tried to look as calm and confident as possible, but inside, everything was churning. «It’s fine. I just… waited a bit. Counted the minutes, probably.»

Aurora laughed quietly, and her laughter was like the ringing of a bell, pure and melodic. That music was sealed in his memory for a long time.

«Always like this? Impatient photographer? Or just a fan of punctuality?» she wrote, raising an eyebrow. «Ready for adventures? Today we will travel. But not in space, but in time.»

Michael looked at her in bewilderment. What did she mean? Where was she taking him? What did she want from him?

But he nodded, trusting her as a blind man trusts his guide. He was already used to her strangeness, her mystery, her unpredictability. That’s what attracted him to her.

Aurora, seeing his agreement, smiled and wrote: «Great. Then let’s go. But remember that ’time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.»»

She took his hand and led him through the narrow, winding streets of the City of Sins. She knew this city like the back of her hand, as if she had lived here all her life.

She showed him places he had never seen before, even though he had walked these streets many times. They went into an old bookstore that smelled of dust, old books, and something else, elusively pleasant. Aurora told him this store had been around for over a hundred years and that many famous writers and poets had visited.

They peeked into an antique shop where you could find the most incredible things: old clocks, yellowed photographs, porcelain dolls, broken musical instruments. Aurora said that every object has its own story, its own soul, its own energy.

They visited a small cafe that served the best coffee in the city. The barista told them the secret of his coffee was a special bean variety and a special roasting method. Aurora said the taste of coffee depends not only on the beans but also on the mood with which you drink it.

She led him as if through a labyrinth of memory, where every corner was filled with its own story, its own legend.

They walked along the embankment, looking at the murky water of the river. The rain had stopped, and rare stars appeared in the sky, reflecting in the water like little diamonds.

Here Aurora took out her notepad and wrote: «They say every person has their own guardian angel. But what if you have more than one? What if angels are the people who come into our lives to help us, support us, teach us something important?».

She looked at him carefully, as if trying to read his thoughts.

Michael looked at her for a long time, not knowing how to respond. He suddenly remembered all the people who had ever helped him in life: his parents, Jean-Pierre, Bill, Emily, Chloe. Maybe Aurora was right, and they were all his angels?

They were silent for a while, enjoying the silence and beauty of the night city.

«Look, we’re reflected in the water,» she wrote. «It’s like in life: you help me, and I help you. That’s why we’re here and now, together.»

Later, Aurora took him to an abandoned theater. It was a huge, old building with peeling walls, broken windows, and a courtyard overgrown with grass.

«They used to put on plays here,» she wrote, entering the theater. «Life was bustling here, music sounded, tears were shed. And now… silence and desolation. But I love this place. You can feel the spirit of the past here, the spirit of art.»

They went up on stage. Aurora stood in the middle of the stage, like an actress preparing to perform. Michael sat in the auditorium, like a spectator spellbound watching her.

«Close your eyes,» Aurora wrote. «Imagine you see me. Imagine me as you want to see me. Imagine I am your heroine, your muse, your dream.»

Michael closed his eyes and imagined Aurora standing on the stage, flooded with spotlight beams. He imagined her laughter, her voice, her smile, her movements. He imagined her as he wanted to see her, as he felt her.

«What do you see?» Aurora wrote.

Michael, opening his eyes, grabbed the notepad and wrote: «You are light. You are hope. You are everything good in this world.»

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