Mirror Image

It was a cold February day when I saw her. She waved, she smiled back at me. Yet I could only stare back in horror as she walked away. I had to look back just to be certain of what I was seeing. Moving to the side of the sidewalk, hearing annoyed walkers who had somewhere to be criticizing me for slowing the flow of traffic. In a busy city, it was not uncommon to see people that looked familiar, but this was something else. Keeping my eyes on her, I moved to follow her. I wasn’t going anywhere important, but she was. Step by step was my attempt to find out what she wanted, what she needed. Why did she even exist?

Down a dark alley we went, myself uncertain of what I was getting myself into. She stopped at the end of it, looking into a pocket mirror that was in her hand as it showed the reflection of the two of us. I blinked, and she was gone. Stepping to where she was, I found the pocket mirror that had been in her hand. She looked back at me as I stared and she giggled. Dropping the mirror, her face shattered into laughter.

I ran, not wanting to deal with or understand what happened. It was only later, in the bathroom that I noticed something off. My reflection was gone.