Although he hadn’t been asleep, Michael felt rested and much calmer. The room was still and peaceful, and lit by a bleed of sunlight around the edges of the curtains. He was lying on his front, and he turned his head and looked across the bed, into the mirror in the wardrobe door. Just behind him, standing at the side of the bed, was a figure. He knew right away that the figure was his father, come to reassure him again. He didn’t move. He felt sure that if he were to turn around the figure would no longer be there, so he continued looking into the mirror. Comforted, he briefly closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, his father was, of course, gone.
© Barry Lee Thompson and ‘Stories, by Barry Lee Thompson’, 2013.