The Unseen Reflection

Did you ever pick up a discarded object, only for it to feel impossibly wrong? I found an old,

dusty photo album on my porch today. No name, no note, just sitting there.

Inside, the pages were filled with faded, blurry pictures of empty rooms.

Same angle, same dim light, one after another. Nothing scary, just… odd.

Then, on the very last page, I saw it. A single,

clear photo. It was my bedroom. My unmade bed, my clothes strewn on the chair.

And in the mirror, a reflection that wasn't mine. Its eyes were fixed on the camera,

a cold, knowing stare. Underneath, a single word was scrawled: *soon*.