Reflection is looking at you

Sometimes, your reflection lingers a moment longer than you do. You’ve already turned away, but it’s still watching — as if waiting. Or remembering. They say mirrors are windows. But in our house, they felt more like film.

Old, grainy, scratched — capturing not just your face, but the whispers of the room. In the reflection, you don’t just see yourself — you meet the version of youthat might have been, if you hadn’t turned, hadn’t stayed, hadn’t left.

The house creaks like film rewinding — back, back, back. You stand before the mirror, but it feels like it’s looking through you. And suddenly you wonder: are you looking at the reflection, or is the reflection looking at you?