Judgment

What have you done, what deeds or misdeeds in all your life, that would cause your very soul to turn its back on you?

How awful to search a mirror for your conscience and have your reflection turn away in shame?

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Mr. Pentimento waited in the parlor. He cut a dashing figure in his tailored suit and new shoes, shined for a dime at the train station. Confidence exuded from the gentleman; his chin lifted a bit higher, his eyes watched with a certain carelessness as the butler left the room to ring the young lady. By the by, he checked the time on an exquisite pocket watch, not so much to find the hour but instead to marvel at the fine gold craftsmanship of the watch itself, as fine as the gold cufflinks on his wrists or the cigarette case in his jacket pocket. All these things were quite fine indeed.

Yet, as he waited, the inevitable occurred: while taking a turn about the room, Mr. Pentimento caught, for just a moment's pause, his reflection in the mirror. In this moment, we see a crack in the facade, gold flaking away to reveal cold, hard flint steel. For as he searched the mirror for a sign of his soul, so recently signed away for the riches of a materialistic existence, his search not only proved futile but devastating -- indeed, his very reflection disdained him and turned away.