A mirror lay abandoned in the long grass. No one noticed until the moon began to rise and the mirror’s frame glinted in its cool light. Attracted by this strange, unexpected lustre, a snail approached. ‘You are beautiful,’ it whispered. ‘I have never seen anything like you.’

All night, the snail explored the mirror’s surface, pressing its soft body against the glass, searching for the radiance it seemed to hold within. And by morning, the mirror was inscribed top to bottom in a silver calligraphy only the two of them could comprehend.

A monkey spied the mirror as it sparkled in the sunshine. He grabbed the object in triumph, but when he saw it was smeared with the snail’s sticky mucus, he cast it to the ground. “What a mess!” it exclaimed. “How could you let such creatures walk all over and debase you?”

“Oh, but you do not understand,” replied the mirror—to the monkey’s surprise. “I welcomed the snail’s intimacy. Others merely hold me at arm’s length and regard themselves, while the snail came as close as it is possible to come. Those trails are the signs of its affection.”

“What kind of affection leaves you smeared with filth?” the monkey responded. “You may not be able to see how you look, but I can and I will make sure you are better cared for in future.”

The monkey wiped the mucus from the glass and, holding the mirror at arm’s length, nodded with satisfaction. “There,” he said. “You are beautiful again.” And then he took the mirror to show to his friends.

© Richard Parkin, 2023