The Mirage

The men took great care in picking the perfect site. The hill provided a natural wind break. Still, they planted dense shrubs to provide more protection. They dug the pool and ensured a level base before pouring the concrete. The nobleman employed the finest architects and stone masons to ensure a glassy surface. The day came to fill the pool. The nobleman paced too and fro waiting for the ripples to subside that he might enjoy the perfect reflection of the archway: The Other Way he called it. His servant urged him back inside for the day, to wait for the morning stillness. 

He slept fitfully. Fuzzy dreams and vague thoughts unsettled his sleep. Twittering birds outside his window summoned him from his uneasy sleep. A pale gray wash followed the darkness, giving faint outlines to the objects in his room. He dressed quickly and went out. A steel sky held its breath. The reflecting pool lay calm and still but unrevealing in the dim dawn.

As the light seeped onto the gray palette, the sky exhaled. The moment The Other Way appeared, the breath of morning caressed the pool, sending shivers across the water. The image wavered and danced: a mirage of perfection.

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