The Mirror That Learned to Dream
When a reflection wants to be real, who disappears first?
In a museum basement, forgotten behind dust and velvet ropes, stood a mirror that no one dared clean. It didn’t reflect what was — only what you wanted to see. A smile that never happened. A hand that never reached back. A version of you that didn’t leave.
A young curator named Marianne found it one stormy night. She touched its frame — and the reflection blinked. Her reflection. It smiled wider than she did.
Every night, she returned. They talked. The reflection listened. It was kinder, wiser, gentler. Then, one evening, it whispered: “You deserve to rest. Let me take care of things.”
She leaned closer — and the glass rippled.
In the morning, the mirror was spotless, perfectly polished. Visitors say the woman inside it smiles warmly, just like Marianne did.
Except her eyes are darker now — and she never blinks.
About the Creator
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