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A wine glass, three quarters full, rests on a table. On one side is the reflection of a well dressed man hunched over a white plate laced with a few crumbs. His head is buried in his palms, and his fingers tug harshly at his hair. On the alternate side, the rest of the table is mirrored. Another wine glass, plate and chair; all empty.
The man in the glass looks to his right. The view pans a quarter ways around the glass to a clock with the hour hand past a backwards nine, and the minute hand near a backwards five. The man in crystal turns his sight to his left. Portrayed on the opposite side of the cup, a door and a curtained window have remained motionless since before the man had started looking at a timepiece that had a short and long finger at a reverse seven and six.
A hand grows around the stalk of the wine glass. At the curved bottom of the red-purple portrait, a thumb and forefinger are shown. The painting tilts sideways as the glass falls against a pair of lips. The room is redrawn to normal in time to see the man in the red wine’s face wince.
A ring comes from somewhere not shown. As the man agitatedly gets up, the liquid ripples. He exits the scene through a dark doorway, which turns bright. The phone rings again before it’s answered.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll-…“ An apologetic woman’s voice can faintly be heard.
“Just fucking forget it” comes from a male voice, cutting off the woman. The phone is heard being slammed down, and the wine ripples again. The man reenters the stage.
He grips the corner of the table, and his chest rises and falls quickly. His hand appears, and grows. It grows until it occupies half the panoramic. Wine sloshes out, and the colors blur.
The looking glass shatters. The film strip is ripped. The canvas is torn. The play is disbanded. The all-embracing view is lost forever. The wine glass meets the floor.
Shards of glass lay on the floor. A red pool of alcohol is displayed in mirrors. A movie of a minute hand chasing an hour hand, which is past ten, is playing at the picture show. A gallery displays a painting of a closed door next to black curtains hiding a window, titled “I wish you’d come in”. And in a theater, an actor sits on a sofa in a dark room, drying his tears on his sleeve.
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