Glad to See the Back of You [Short Fiction]

Claude looked into the mirror, but all he could see was the back of his own head.  His reflection would not meet his gaze.  Claude waited, stared harder, but the reflection didn’t move.  How long had this been going on?  How long had his own reflection rejected him?

The Way Out (Friday Fictioneers)

It’s been just over a year now, but I somewhat randomly decided to look at this week’s prompt for Friday Fictioneers, a weekly writing challenge in which people pen stories of roughly 100 words inspired by a weekly photo.  At first, the picture didn’t inspire anything, but then suddenly, something emerged…