The Glass Prison

I thought this apartment was a steal. It was far too cheap for

this part of the city, but I was desperate for a quiet place to

write. The silence was oppressive. Every time I passed a mirror,

I caught a glimpse of something moving just behind my own reflection. By the third

night, I could not take it anymore. I covered every mirror in the

house with thick, black curtains to block out the gaze. I tried to

sleep, but the room grew freezing. I could hear the sound of

fabric sliding slowly against the hardwood floor in the hallway. I bolted upright