The sun had risen, wearily followed it's destined course, and now rested, cushioned by the vast, rolling hills, which were blanketed with a thin layer of untouched snow. Amongst these snow covered mounds sat a diminutive cottage, which expressed a distinct feeling of frigid loneliness in it's solitary setting. From a seat drawn to the window of this cabin, a man standing with his face pressed against the glass viewed in wonder the glistening reflection of light which shone a radiant crimson, contrasting with the pearly blanket that lay across the landscape.



Thinking how content the sun must be to view its own vast beauty in the natural mirror, the man slowly backed away from his position at the window, wishing to find comfort in the reflection of his own form. As he cleanly wiped the frost from the window with two swift strokes of his arm, an image began to materialize in the glossy surface. Making out the indistinct shape of a head and torso, he leaned closer to inspect his appearance.



What he perceived from the image saddened him, snapping him out of the complacent reverie brought on by his pleasing view. Gazing back from the mirror was a figure of about average height and build with no outstanding traits. Upon closer inspection he could see the marks of resignation etched clearly into it's features. He perceived an exhausted, pale complexion of a man who focuses far too intently on opinions and self-image. With a feeling of dejected desperation, he attempted to push the dreadful thoughts of his own normalcy aside and resolved to brighten his features with a smile. What he saw before him then was a shade of his own form, reflected transparently in the glass pane, wearing a hauntingly fake grin that stretched tauntingly across the creatures face.



The man let out a cry as he covered his eyes, turning away from his own mocking expression. He wished earnestly that the image of himself be erased from his mind, that it be replaced with something, anything, which would be less agonizing to his sight than what he had just viewed. He angrily thought how cruel it was that the sun should have such a wonderfully exciting reflection, while his was something which would only remind him of his own inadequacy. In the midst of these woeful thoughts, he was struck with an idea. Instead of resigning to this unhappy self image, he would impose the beauty of the sun onto himself, for if he simply believed in the truth of his own self confidence, his own perfection, then surely others would begin to as well.



As he began to clear his mind, the image of the doppelgänger that appeared to him within the mirror began to fade, and was replaced instead by that distinct beauty which appears so natural, yet is often far more illusive than we believe. With this he turned to the window, gazing past his reflection into the shades of scarlet and purple, which were now being cast across the snowy knolls. Now he could see in himself a shadow of what he had desired so desperately to attain. He was now almost happy with his conveniently constructed self; it was almost perfect. He was almost happy. Almost, but not quite.