The crescendo of notes rose with the screams and soon the vast crowd, shrouded in the mist of machine smoke and lighting from the trusses above, came into view. The platform touched the stage simultaneously with a deafening blast of canon fire, blinding light and searing heat from the pyrotechnics.
By the third song it became maddening, not able to dance around as he normally would for fear of what might be hidden in those mirrors. But, thankfully, half way through the song he spotted one of the girls he'd met the last time he was in town. At last, something to keep his mind and eyes busy. In the front row she stood, arms raised toward him. The bulldozing horde had her pressed against the stage, long auburn hair flittering about as she bobbed her head to the beat of the music. He smiled in her direction, despite his sudden dread at remembering the promise he'd made to her the year before. A promise—ashamedly—he had no intention of keeping.
As real to him as his own reflection.
No! Not here!
His dilemma with the redhead in the front row disappeared. The girls he’d met in the past or would meet in the future no longer mattered. It was this stranger, this illusion. She alone meant everything—and she scared the hell out of him. But deeper than fear lie an unbearable urge to leap into the mirror and gather her into his arms.
Behind him, the glass’ surface reflected a flurry of activity; lambent light bounced from one mirror to the next, heightening the pain in his head. The small section of audience visible moved and swayed, their images like dancing ghosts in the dark mist of the stadium. Stephan’s long strawberry hair swayed as he bobbed his head up and down while he plucked away at his bass. He hadn’t seen her. At the time Dane didn’t think anyone else saw her, but her form was as solid in the mirror as was his own, as she had been in every mirror throughout his life.