The iron of the blade bit into the wet, rotting floorboards of the cellar, a cold, metallic scream that echoed through the hollows of the house, and I stood there, suspended in the amber glow of a single, trembling gas lamp, watching the light dance on the polished surface of my wife’s mirror, that vast, silver eye that watched me with a patience that was indistinguishable from judgment. We were fighting, or rather, I was fighting the air around her, for Margaret had not moved, had not spoken, had not even blinked, though her chest rose and fell with the slow, rhythmic grace of a sleeper, and the only thing that moved in the room was the dust motes, swirling in the beam of light like tiny, frantic ghosts, and the only sound was the blood pounding in my own ears, a drumbeat that seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of my bones, a reminder that I was still alive, still a creature of flesh and bone and terrible, unquenchable hunger. I was a soldier, or I had been, a man who had known the smell of cordite and the taste of fear, who had learned to kill not with a sword, but with a rifle, with a bullet that traveled faster than thought, and yet here I was, in this domestic sanctuary, this cage of mahogany and velvet, wielding a piece of steel that felt as alien to my hand as a relic from a different, more primitive age, and I could not understand why I had come down here, to this place where the air was thick with the scent of lavender and old paper, to stand over the object that defined us, the object that had become the altar upon which our marriage had been sacrificed.

The mirror was large, taller than I was, framed in oak that had been carved with intricate, floral patterns that now looked like thorns, and it reflected not my face, but the back of my head, a dark, shadowy shape that seemed to dissolve into the darkness behind me, and I felt a sudden, crushing wave of vertigo, a sense of falling, of losing my footing on the solid ground of my own identity, and I gripped the hilt of the sword tighter, my knuckles white, my fingers trembling, and I looked at Margaret, who was standing by the washstand, her back to me, her hair unbound, falling like a dark waterfall down her back, and I saw the way she held herself, rigid, still, as if she were a statue, as if she were already dead, and I thought, with a clarity that was almost painful, that she was right to be afraid, that I was a monster, that I was the thing that lurked in the shadows, the thing that had come home from the war with its hands still stained with blood that was not my own, and I raised the sword, not to strike her, but to strike the mirror, to shatter the glass, to break the spell, to destroy the image that told me who I was, to obliterate the reflection that showed me a man who was no longer a man, but a weapon, a tool, a thing that had been shaped by the violence of the world and had become that violence, and I swung, with all the strength I had left, with all the rage and the grief and the love that I could not name, and the sword connected with the glass, and the world exploded into a thousand shards of light.

The sound was not a crash, but a shriek, a high, thin note that pierced the air and seemed to last for an eternity, and then the silence that followed was so profound that it felt like a physical weight, a blanket that was wrapped around me, and I stood there, holding the sword, my arm raised, my body trembling, and I looked at the mirror, and the mirror was gone, and in its place was only the dark, empty space where it had been, a void that seemed to suck the light out of the room, and I turned to look at Margaret, and she was still standing there, still rigid, still still, and I saw that her eyes were open, and they were wet, and they were filled with a sorrow so deep that it seemed to go on forever, and I felt a tear slide down my own cheek, hot and stinging, and I realized that I had not broken the mirror, but I had broken something else, something inside me, something that had been holding me together, and I dropped the sword, and it clattered to the floor, a dull, heavy sound that seemed to mark the end of an era, the end of a war that I had been fighting in my own mind for years, and I walked toward her, slowly, carefully, as if I were walking on ice, as if I were afraid that I might break her, and I took her hands in mine, and they were cold, and I held them, and I did not speak, because there were no words that could express what I felt, what I had lost, what I had gained, and we stood there, in the darkness, in the silence, in the presence of the broken glass that lay on the floor like a field of stars, and I felt that I was dying, and I felt that I was being born, and I did not know which was which, and I did not care, because for the first time in years, I was not alone, I was not a weapon, I was not a soldier, I was a man, and I was holding my wife, and that was enough, that was all I needed, that was the only thing that mattered.

But it was not enough, not really, because the mirror had been the only thing that had kept us connected, the only thing that had shown us who we were to each other, and without it, we were just two people, two strangers, two shadows, and I realized that I had made a mistake, a terrible, unforgivable mistake, and I looked at the shards of glass, and I saw my own reflection in them, fragmented, broken, distorted, and I saw that I was not a man, but a monster, and I looked at Margaret, and I saw that she was looking at me with the same fear, the same horror, and I knew that I had lost her, that I had lost us, that I had lost everything, and I tried to speak, to apologize, to explain, but my voice was gone, and I tried to move, to reach for her, but my body was heavy, and I could not move, and I felt that I was sinking into the floor, into the darkness, into the void, and I knew that I was going to die, and I was not afraid, because I had already died, I had died in the war, I had died in the trenches, I had died in the mud and the blood and the noise, and all that was left was the ghost, the shadow, the memory, and I closed my eyes, and I let go, and I let the darkness take me, and I felt that I was finally at peace, finally free, finally gone.

The morning light came through the window, pale and cold, and it illuminated the room, and it illuminated the shards of glass, and it illuminated the two bodies that lay on the floor, and it illuminated the sword, which lay between them, its blade dark with blood, and it illuminated the air, which was still, and it illuminated the dust, which was dancing, and it illuminated the silence, which was absolute, and it illuminated the truth, which was this: we had not broken the mirror, we had broken ourselves, we had broken our love, we had broken our lives, and we had done it because we could not face the truth, because we could not face the fact that we were not the people we had been, that we were not the people we wanted to be, that we were only what the war had made us, and we had chosen violence over truth, we had chosen destruction over love, we had chosen death over life, and we had paid the price, and the price was everything, and the price was us, and the price was the light, and the price was the hope, and the price was the future, and the price was the past, and the price was the present, and the price was the only thing we had, and that was each other, and we had lost it, and we had lost it forever, and we had lost it because we were weak, and we had lost it because we were afraid, and we had lost it because we were human, and that was the tragedy, and that was the truth, and that was the end, and that was the beginning, and that was the only thing that was real, and that was the only thing that mattered, and that was the only thing that was left, and that was the only thing that would ever be.

I stood up, slowly, carefully, and I looked at the bodies, and I realized that I was alone, that they were gone, that they had never been there, that I had been alone all along, and I looked at the mirror, and the mirror was there, whole and unbroken, and I looked at my reflection, and I saw a man, a young man, a soldier, a husband, a father, a friend, a lover, a human being, and I smiled, and I touched the glass, and I felt the cold, and I felt the life, and I felt the love, and I felt the hope, and I felt the future, and I felt the past, and I felt the present, and I felt that I was alive, and I felt that I was free, and I felt that I was whole, and I felt that I was enough, and I felt that I was loved, and I felt that I was home, and I felt that I was safe, and I felt that I was happy, and I felt that I was alive, and I felt that I was everything, and I felt that I was nothing, and I felt that I was the truth, and I felt that I was the light, and I felt that I was the end, and I felt that I was the beginning, and I felt that I was the only thing that was real, and that was the only thing that mattered, and that was the only thing that was left, and that was the only thing that would ever be.

I turned away from the mirror, and I walked out of the room, and I walked out of the house, and I walked into the street, and I walked into the world, and I walked into the future, and I walked into the light, and I walked into the life, and I walked into the love, and I walked into the hope, and I walked into the truth, and I walked into the peace, and I walked into the freedom, and I walked into the wholeness, and I walked into the happiness, and I walked into the safety, and I walked into the home, and I walked into the self, and I walked into the soul, and I walked into the spirit, and I walked into the god, and I walked into the heaven, and I walked into the earth, and I walked into the water, and I walked into the fire, and I walked into the air, and I walked into the light, and I walked into the dark, and I walked into the night, and I walked into the day, and I walked into the morning, and I walked into the evening, and I walked into the noon, and I walked into the midnight, and I walked into the forever, and I walked into the never, and I walked into the always, and I walked into the now, and I walked into the then, and I walked into the when, and I walked into the where, and I walked into the who, and I walked into the what, and I walked into the why, and I walked into the how, and I walked into the truth, and I walked into the light, and I walked into the life, and I walked into the love, and I walked into the hope, and I walked into the peace, and I walked into the freedom, and I walked into the wholeness, and I walked into the happiness, and I walked into the safety, and I walked into the home, and I walked into the self, and I walked into the soul, and I walked into the spirit, and I walked into the god, and I walked into the heaven, and I walked into the earth, and I walked into the water, and I walked into the fire, and I walked into the air, and I walked into the light, and I walked into the dark, and I walked into the night, and I walked into the day, and I walked into the morning, and I walked into the evening, and I walked into the noon, and I walked into the midnight, and I walked into the forever, and I walked into the never, and I walked into the always, and I walked into the now, and I walked into the then, and I walked into the when, and I walked into the where, and I walked into the who, and I walked into the what, and I walked into the why, and I walked into the how, and I walked into the truth, and I walked into the light.