Burning Mirrors – Microfiction Short Story

Burning Mirrors

“The left or right?”

“Does it matter?”

Silva pulls an awkward face while he scratches his head vigorously. “I guess if it’s drawing from the source material it should, right?”

“Fucked if I have any clue about what the procedures are when reimagining SHIT like this, does the source material even say what side it’s on?”

“According to the studio you’re the so-called expert, so you should already know that answer.”

“If I knew, I’d know. But before you start dropping all the blame on my shoulders I like to remind you that you’re the one who got all excited with the idea of taking such a time savvy approach to this classic touting an in-depth knowledge of not only the story, but also the apparent undercurrent that I still think doesn’t exist, so perhaps you should also already know what side his FUCKING eye-patch is ON!” Silva says as he erratically gesturing at most of the inanimate objects in the room before turning back to Fletch,  dropping his shoulders and crossing his arms across his chest like a rapper who just dropped the mic in the middle of a fierce rap battle.

“No need to be a tool about it, we are on the same side, REMEMBER!”

“Then why’re you trying to send me over the edge with this waste of time shtik?”

“What THE FUCK am I doing that’s anywhere associated with sending you over the edge?”

“Everything and nothing, that’s the point.”

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