Mohamed Khalafouf is a Moroccan short story writer, poet and translator.

On my way to work, I pass a furniture shop and stand in front of a long mirror with a black frame. I look at myself for a few seconds, then walk away. I do the same on the way home. Over time, it became a habit to stop in front of the mirror and look at myself. 
This is how I developed a strong desire for a mirror of my own.
I have always loved mirrors and looking into them. Not just mirrors, but anything with a reflection: A cup, a spoon, a jug, a window, a shop front... But mirrors have a very special magic that impels me to look at them for a long time, even if I have no reason to. I can spend ages contemplating my perfectly ordinary facial features... I even got into trouble with hairdressers when they noticed that I was constantly looking in the mirror while shaving.
As a child, my mum scolded me for staring into mirrors for too long, especially the one in her wardrobe. I would sneak in and sit on the edge of the bed, right in front of her mirror. Once, I even had a nosebleed there. My mum told me afterwards that the spirit of the mirror was about to devour my soul and take it into the hidden world of the mirror. After that incident, I lived my life somewhere between fear of mirrors and a strange attraction to them. I had no parents, no siblings, no friends, no wife... I lived a lonely life. Nothing gave me the feeling of belonging. I was invisible. Only mirrors gave me a sense of being present in the world, even if it was only a fleeting reflection on a windowpane.

I hate looking in the small bathroom mirror with the off-white frame. It's where I wash my face, brush my teeth, shave and check my appearance before I leave the house. It shows only my upper body. It's as if I consist only of a head and neck; the rest of my body doesn't exist. So I really needed a mirror that showed me in my entirety, not just part of me.

Every day, morning and evening, I walk past the shop, through all the seasons... I stop and look in the mirror. Sometimes I smile to myself, sometimes I stifle it... "These trousers don't match my shirt", “I didn't shave properly today”... I say to myself as I stand in front of the mirror. Even when passers-by walk past, I don't see their reflection; everything around me suddenly disappears: people, car horns, the noise of the street, the sky, the weight of the shopping bags in my hands... I feel a sudden unease, as if I am standing in front of a mysterious force that opens a window to a different world.. It's a bitter sense of self, almost as if another being - the mirror spirit, as my mum calls it - has placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and wants to take me into a mirror-world. Then I'll suddenly shake myself and return to my senses.

It's like with hairdressers: I am fully aware of the shop assistant's irritation when I walk past his shop and stop and stare into his mirror.

Despite my passion for mirrors, I have never dreamed about a mirror... I've dreamt about almost everything, but I've never seen a mirror in my dreams. But one night I dreamt about it: the mirror, yes, exactly: the mirror of the furniture store was standing in a long, dark corridor, and I tried to get to it to see my reflection, but it kept moving further and further away... At the end of the dream, a bright light shone and shattered the mirror into a thousand shards.
The dream echoed in my head for two days until I plucked up the courage to buy the mirror. I entered the shop, which looked even more elegant from the inside. The salesman noticed me and said:

-Hello, sir! What do you want? A sofa, a wardrobe, a cushion...? 
-I want the mirror from the shop window!

I bought the mirror. On the way home, I was happy. I had never been so happy to buy something as than at that moment.

Back home, I wondered where I should put the mirror: In the living room or in the bedroom? In the end, I put it in my bedroom so that it would be closer to me and I would be closer to it. I'll be able to see myself completely now, even if I'm naked, even if I'm alone... I carried the mirror - which I didn't think would be that heavy - into my bedroom...
I moved the dressing table a little. I placed the mirror between the door and the bedside table and prepared to look into the mirror as I did before the shop...

I stood right in front of it, but I couldn't see myself - there was no reflection, the mirror was empty.