The face that’s looking back at me from the mirror looks good. That smile! That collar! Quite nice to behold. But what’s with that stain on the mirror? I haven’t seen it before. It looks like a speck of something or other. I’ll just wipe it off.
I rub at it firmly. But it turns out there’s no speck there. Nothing. Still, I’m wiping something off—it’s paint. How come I didn’t notice this before? My smile is only painted on the mirror!
Painted, just like the rest of my face. It’s all