It started three nights ago at 2:46 a. m. I wasn't asleep.
I hadn't even gone to bed yet. Just standing there brushing my teeth when I noticed it. The mirror blinked.
I didn't. I stared at it frozen. Maybe it was my imagination.
Maybe I was just tired. But then it happened again. A twitch.
A movement. Too fast to be me. I waved.
It waved back. I smiled. It didn't.
Not yet. That's when I realized it was watching me. Not mimicking, observing like it was waiting.
The next night, I stood still in front of the mirror. I didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe, and still. It smiled.
A full stretched grin. Then it tilted its head. I didn't.
I stepped back and it stepped forward. There was no glass sound, no reflection delay. It was like watching a recording of myself, but one that had decided to keep playing after I paused.
I ran and it watched me go. Tonight, I woke up at 2:46 again. The mirror was uncovered.
I don't remember doing that. There's something written on the surface like it was drawn from the inside in a finger smear. Smile back.
I haven't smiled since that night. But just now as I write this, I can hear something behind the mirror. It's breathing.
It sounds like me. If you look into a mirror and it smiles before you do, don't smile back. Not unless you want to switch.
