The Reflection's Whisper

At first, the house only made noises when Daniel was awake. Small things.

A soft creak from the hallway. The sound of fingers brushing the wall just outside his

bedroom door. He told himself it was old pipes, old wood, the kind of place

that settled at night. Then he noticed something worse. Every morning,

the bathroom mirror was fogged over, even though no one had showered. Daniel lived alone.

The first time he saw it, he wiped the mirror clean with his sleeve. The glass was cold,

not warm like steam should be. He laughed it off, but his reflection didn’t laugh back.

It just stared, eyes a little too focused, mouth a little too still.