It was the dawn of a new age for Hortence. Something was familiar, yet strange about the person that gazed out from the looking glass.
Could it be him looking at a reflection? He knew those eyes were his looking back at him, but the face was twenty years younger than the ones which appeared every morning.
Could it be the water, he didn’t know; the package said the “spring water” was supposed to be special. He needed another opinion, another mirror to look into for confirmation, but Folsom prison only allowed one in solitary confinement.