The room was silent. Only the ticking of the old clock echoed softly, and the pale morning light spilled across the surface of a large, antique mirror hanging on the wall.
She stood in front of it, staring quietly. Her eyes looked tired, her hair slightly messy, her skin marked by time, life, and storms. But this time, something felt… wrong.
The reflection was off. It showed her face — but colder, paler… and the eyes staring back weren’t quite hers.
She screamed.
But the sound didn’t bounce around the room — it was pulled into the mirror, swallowed like water down a drain. Then, without warning, her body leaned forward, as if something unseen was drawing her in.
Her hand touched the surface.
It rippled.
The mirror opened like liquid glass.
English