Your Turn to Stay

Reflections aren't supposed to blink last. There I was, half-asleep,

toothbrush in hand, when it happened. My mirror image blinked back—just a heartbeat too

late. I shrugged it off as a sleepy haze. But the second night, the strangeness

returned. I smiled; my reflection didn’t. Instead, it stared wide-eyed,

stunned that I caught on. I moved in for a closer look; it did too.

“Get it together," I muttered. The reflection's lips moved differently. That’s when unease

crept in. Over days, it worsened. My reflection tilting its head without

me, its gaze unbroken as I turned away. Last night, I approached and