Member-only story
The Reflection That Wasn’t Mine
She thought it was just her imagination, until the mirror blinked.
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I moved into my new apartment on a rainy Monday. It was small but cozy, with an old, full-length mirror nailed to the bedroom wall. The previous tenant had left it behind, and something about it unsettled me.
That first night, as I unpacked, I glanced at my reflection. It looked… off. Not in a distorted way, but in a way I couldn’t quite explain. The next night, I caught it blinking — while I hadn’t. My breath hitched, and I laughed nervously, blaming exhaustion.
By the third night, I tested it. I lifted my right hand; the reflection did too. I tilted my head; it followed. But then, just as I was about to turn away, it smirked.
I did not.
A chill crawled up my spine. My reflection’s smile widened, and before I could react, it raised a hand and waved at me.
