1

A couple. A man and woman standing silent, as if framed in a camera lens. Nothing moves. There is no wind here to feather the smooth auburn of her hair. The blue ice of his eyes seems flawless, unmeltable. Behind them is a wall of smoky glass, with hints of further walls and chambers beyond its dark translucency. Two low archways, one on the left and one on the right, are open at the corners of this wall. Another couple stand inside the room, a man and woman. They too are still, facing the first couple as if framed in a camera lens. Behind her darkly glinting hair, and unobserved by his blue gaze, a wall with two doorways grants shadowy glimpses of further corridors and compartments. The two couples stand, almost touching, separated by a veneer so thin it might not be there. Yet this surface, transparent as air, is the plane dividing two realities, or rather, dividing reality from illusion. It is a mirror, for as one couple turn to face each other, so too do their images. But which is the living reality and which the reflection? Each woman turns to face each man, each man turns to face each woman. Their eyes meet quickly, watchfully, and yet they might be strangers. 

If they speak, go to 2.