The Girl in 2D

I. Arrival on Floor 2D

That Wednesday afternoon should’ve been routine. I was new to the office building—just another intern with a passcard and too much anxiety. The elevator was slow, creaking as it rose, and when it stopped between the second and third floor, the doors opened to something unexpected.

2D.

The floor label shouldn’t exist. I had studied the map during orientation. No floor 2D. Just 2, then 3. No one mentioned this in onboarding. No one warned me. And yet, curiosity overpowered caution.

The hallway ahead was hushed and dim. The lights buzzed faintly, some flickering overhead. There was a sterile scent in the air—like forgotten paper and cold metal. Rows of doors lined both sides, all shut. But at the very end, one door stood open, its soft yellow glow leaking into the gray corridor.

II. The Room Without a Name

Room 2042.

It didn’t even have a nameplate.

I pushed the door open fully. The air inside was colder, stiller. The room was empty—no desk, no chair, no clock. Just a single object.

A full-length mirror stands in the middle.

It had no frame. No stand. Nothing to hold it up—but it stood, flawless and tall, quietly demanding attention.

I stepped closer, my footsteps muffled by the smooth tile. I looked into the mirror casually—until I froze.

III. The Reflection That Wasn’t Mine

There was a girl in the reflection.

She wore my clothes. Had my posture. My messy bun. Even the anxiety in her shoulders. But she wasn’t me. She didn’t blink when I did. Didn’t tilt her head. Didn’t copy me.

She was watching me.

I whispered:

“I didn’t see that girl before… but she looks just like me.”

And then—she smiled.

But it wasn’t a smile of warmth. It was a quiet smirk. Calculating. Empty.

IV. Cracks in the Glass

I leaned closer, heart thudding against my ribs. My breath fogged the glass faintly. She moved again, slowly. Delayed. As if she were remembering how to be me.

My hand rose, fingertips brushing the surface. It pulsed beneath my skin. The chill was electric, not natural. Her hand met mine through the glass—but her touch didn’t feel like mine. It felt foreign.

I whispered, "Who are you?"

Her lips parted. She mouthed the words slowly:

“You took my place.”

V. Panic in the Quiet

I backed away. Fast. My foot hit the doorframe—I turned to leave—

The door was gone.

Only a wall remained. Smooth. Seamless.

My breath caught in my throat. I turned to the mirror. The girl—still there. Her hands were now pressed flat against the glass. Her fingers trembled, nails tapping faster.

A crack appeared.

Then another.

She was trying to come through.

I screamed. No sound came out.

The mirror warped slightly. Like water disturbed by a whisper. I stumbled back. Fell to the floor.

Then—silence.

She vanished.

VI. The Switch

A soft sound, like footsteps behind me.

I turned sharply.

No one.

But in the mirror, she was there again. Behind me.

Closer now.

Her hand reached out in the reflection, touching my shoulder.

I spun around—nothing. My skin tingled with cold.

And when I looked back, my reflection was wrong.

I raised my hand. The reflection didn’t move.

I smiled. It stared blankly.

I was inside.

I slammed my hands on the glass. Screamed. Kicked.

No response.

The girl on the outside fixed her coat. She brushed my hair out of her face like she had worn it all her life.

She turned away. And walked through the door—the door that had returned for her.

She never looked back.

VII. Final Snapshot

I sat alone, palms flat against the mirror’s inside. The room was dark now. Empty. No sounds. Just me.

I see at the glass.

It won’t move