London Mirrors 2

In the mornings, CA would look fearlessly into the mirror hoping to see all the trappings of a fashionable young man in London reflected behind him, with multiple glass bottles that clinked when he reapplied the lid, with perfumes and potions, tonics, and dentifrice with exceptionally strong detergent, all tussled about in disarray given that he was a busy man with many portraits yet to be painted, but just as a camera cannot be pointed straight at a mirror, neither can a face, really, because it gives all the illusions away and you see who is watching who. No one was watching CA, and he was thinking about this while looking at himself in the mirror endlessly back and forth, thinking of an audiobook he listened to once talking about the exact same thing, about staring into the mirror, wondering who that person is, did wondering this make him more or less valid? He was brushing his teeth by this point but the building rhetoric in his head made him want to be done with it, needed away from the mirror, so he didn't do a very good job. Once back in his room, he dropped the towel and looked at himself naked in the mirror which was one of his very favorite things to do in the world, now in his mind he was a naked fashionable young man in his London flat, planning out his day with a firm ass and perfect dick for all to see. CA thought most of his body was nearly perfect and believed that all people should feel this way about their own body, it was maybe the only benefit of being truly selfish. His ideal body was his own body and he felt like a million bucks but still sort of sad because nobody was tapping the account. He pet his dog instead.