Reflect

He recoiled violently from the train window, jerked from his late night stupor by the sight of his own skeleton staring back at him.  The other two people in his car didn't seem to notice.  What a dream.

He almost laughed.  He was actually scared to look again.  Inch by inch he traced his gaze up the seats in front of him, over, over, up to the edge of the windowsill.  Shock.  Nearly sick.  Three human skeletons sat in the occupied seats of the cold, rattling car.  The lights flickered from a dead spot in the tracks.  The skeletons flickered, too.

Now he couldn't look away.  He raised his hand, slowly; the bones did not.  Relief.  Overwhelming relief.  It's not me.  It's not real.  Dreaming.

But it stood as he stood.  It floated through the other windows as he headed to the doors.  It remained still as the doors whooshed shut in front of him.  It wavered in the passing windows as the train started up again.

Then he was alone, staring at the spot where his reflection had been.