Daniel never liked mirrors. Not because he was vain, but because there was something uncomfortable about looking into his own eyes for too long. Still, the bathroom mirror was part of his daily routine — shave, brush, wash, done.
That’s why he noticed when things went wrong.
At first, it was tiny. One night, while brushing his teeth, he blinked. But in the mirror, his reflection blinked a fraction too late. His heart skipped, but he laughed it off. Maybe I’m tired. Maybe my eyes are playing tricks.
But it kept happening.
Every morning, the reflection was just a little behind. A half-smile appeared when his face stayed still. A tilt of the head came seconds after he’d stopped moving.
It was like watching a video with lag — only the “video” was his own body.
Daniel tried to test it. He raised his left hand. The reflection hesitated, then lifted its own hand. He frowned, and his reflection… smiled.
That night, he didn’t sleep well. The next morning, standing in front of the mirror, he whispered, “What are you?”
The reflection tilted its head, but his own body didn’t move.
Daniel stumbled back, knocking over a cup. His reflection stayed upright, staring. Not copying. Just watching.
He called his sister, desperate to prove he wasn’t losing it. She came over, standing beside him at the sink. “It looks normal,” she said, shaking her head.
Daniel swallowed hard. “Watch closely.”
He lifted his hand quickly, waving. His reflection lagged again, a second too slow.
But this time, she gasped. She saw it too.
“Daniel… that’s not right.”
From that moment, things escalated. The reflection began skipping movements altogether. Sometimes, it simply froze, staring while Daniel moved. Other times, it acted first — smiling, shaking its head, moving before he did.
Then came the worst night of his life.
Daniel stood before the mirror, his sister behind him. He raised his arm. The reflection didn’t move at all. It stood perfectly still, its eyes locked on his.
And then, slowly, deliberately, it grinned.
But Daniel wasn’t smiling.
His sister screamed. “It’s not you. Daniel… it’s not you.”
And in that moment, the reflection leaned forward. The glass rippled.
It pressed its hand against the other side of the mirror.
And his sister swore she saw a crack begin to form.
