He sees me. The stranger looks deep, deeper Into me than I see myself and analyse and care to critique the way that I'm conducting myself. He's harsh with his eyes but He doesn't know me. scrutinizing every pore every hair that stands in place, every conscious thought and un-thought. He thinks he doesn't But he does.
Like a whirlpool of judgement that swirls in a silver reflection, I stare at the man that stares at me. he seems familiar and now I judge him. the table turns to see myself staring at this silvery this... this... Imposter that I think that I know.