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”“I know, I worked that out when they allowed us to switch our phones back on and I saw your messages.”“What do you mean, allowed you?”“There’s a hell of a lot riding on this, and the other side is paranoid about secrecy. We got to the Dorchester, we met Jilly and her agent, then her agent told us that we needed to drive to a hotel in Surrey. When we got there, they insisted we switch off our phones. All we had was David’s laptop with our presentation and a folder of concept drawings. Jilly was pushing for us, but none of the others involved was in favor of us. They have their own advertising agencies that they prefer to work with, so it was an incredibly hard sell; we all worked our asses off to sell our ideas.”Just saying that made her wriggle on her seat.“I think that they were hoping that we would fuck up and they could convince Jilly that they needed to use their agencies.”She looked at me apologetically, “Neil, I’m sorry I screwed up. I got so involved I completely forgot about. He rubbed at his chin, feeling it underhis fingers. Why was he feeling like this? Why now?What he didn't notice was as he rubbed his fingers over his face, hishair started to vanish. His face had grown smooth. When he looked in themirror again, he didn't... hate it. There was still a feeling ofwrongness, a feeling of other. Like he wasn't himself. For a moment, athought bubbled to the surface, of smashing the mirror. And then anothershock.He turned, only to be face to face with another mirror. Erin's facelooked... softer. As if this was his face if he had managed to make itthrough college, get a job he hated less, didn't have to only work andsleep and work and sleep. A... happier Erin."Huh," he says, once again touching his face. He should be weirded out.This house had a weird funhouse mirror room. Had to be, right? Nothingelse would explain it. And whoever lit the candles wanted him to comethrough and do... something. Just, look, right? No harm in lookingaround. Despite the age and.
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