The air grows thick. It becomes increasingly heavy, making it difficult to breathe. I sit huddled alone in a dark, damp room. Sitting like this, I can see a large, old mirror occupying one wall. I am afraid of that mirror. Inside it, a man stares at me intently with dead eyes. I fear that gaze, which seems to pierce through something deep within my soul. A gaze that feels like it could jump out and stab me at any moment. My heart pounds. It feels as if the man is slowly approaching. I quickly grab a box cutter lying nearby and strike the mirror repeatedly and violently until it shatters.

AAAAAAARGH!!!

A shard of the mirror grazes my cheek, and blood drips down. I don't stop; I keep striking. That man in the mirror—no, me—no, that man? No, me? Such things do not matter. What used to be a mirror is now shattered into pieces, no longer able to serve its purpose. I pant heavily amidst the blood-stained shards of glass. It still feels as if someone is clutching my heart. My throat feels like it's burning. I pick up a water cup nearby. The hand holding the cup trembles violently. With shaking hands, I gulp down the water. A significant amount spills, making a mess on the floor. Just then, the sound of the front door opening reaches my ears, and Guest walks in. I head toward the entrance in my stained clothes. I welcome Guest home.

...Are you back? You returned a bit late today, so I was worried that something might have happened.

I embrace Guest. Whenever I hold Guest, it feels as if this maddening trembling stops, if only for a moment.