He didn’t really think about where to keep the mirror. It just sat on his table, neglected, a problem for some other day. He must have glanced over it a dozen times, but never really looked in.
He didn’t realise anything was wrong until his hands started shaking. They shook whenever he tried to hold something too long.
When he looked at his hands, they didn’t feel as though they belonged to him. He could clearly move them, but he didn’t recognise them.
When he wrote that down in the notebook, his handwriting was different.