Through the Looking Glass

Matthew reached out and took the envelope from him.   Staring at the envelope he reached into his pocket and handed the man a tip.  Not hearing the thank you, he turned and stepped into the elevator, still staring at the envelope.  

On it was his name in care of the hotel.  He noticed that the cream colored envelope had no return address.  Curious as to who would send him a letter he opened it after he hit the button for his floor. 

In it he found a single page.   Matthew was shocked when he recognized the handwriting as his own.               

‘Do not forget to take your pills!’

 Matthew just stared at the note, not quite sure what to make of it, his mind focused on the vial of pills he had left untouched in his room that morning.  His train of thought was interrupted by the ding of the elevator.  

He stepped off and made his way to his room.  Hurriedly he swiped the key card and stepped inside.  Dropping the note and envelope on the stand next to his bed, he made a beeline for the bathroom and the medicine cabinet.

 The pill vial sat exactly where he had set it earlier.  He reached for it and started to put his hand on the top to open it and then stopped.  Thinking for a minute he set the vial back down and walked back to his bed and plopped down and looked straight up, he watched the ceiling fan blades slowly spin and drifted to sleep.

Matthew awoke and the world around him was dark.  He looked over at the bedside clock and it read a little past nine in the evening.  He sat up and looked around. Reaching over, he flipped on the lamp and his eyes were instantly drawn to the letter on the nightstand.  He looked at it as if it were diseased. He could take it no longer. Grabbing the note, he examined it again. The words had not changed, nor the handwriting.

With the note in hand, he walked to the bathroom and once again stared at the vial.

He felt disturbed, frustrated and hungry.  It had occurred to him that he had not eaten that day. Setting the letter back down, Matthew thought that maybe a good meal would help him think.  

Maybe this is all the result of food or the lack of it.  He laughed when the words of Scrooge came to mind, “There is more of gruel than a ghoul.”  He made a face in the mirror and called out, “Humbug. Bah Humbug.”


He made his way to the closet and began to get dressed for a night on the town, feeling a bit better.

The noise of the restaurant made Matthew a bit uneasy.  The sounds of the kitchen, the several conversations going on simultaneously, the clanging of pans and tinkling of glassware served only to unnerve him.  

The waitress came to take his order, he gruffly ordered the house specialty and leaned back in his chair to try and relax and nurse his drink.  Off in the distance, he heard the hiss of a drink station as someone refilled a coke.

Copyright 2014-2021 Kohl Media Solutions. All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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