The mirror in the hallway
doesn’t lie.
It simply
delays.

I pass it every morning,
same routine—
brush teeth,
fix hair,
avoid the eyes
that aren’t quite mine.

Today the glass is colder.
My breath fogs it
a second too long.
The shape behind me
lingers
after I step away.

I tell myself
it’s the light.
Old bulb.
Old house.
Old tricks.

But at night,
when the hallway is dark
and the bedroom door is closed,
the mirror stays lit.
Soft.
Blue.
Like a phone screen
in an empty room.

I don’t look.
I walk past.
But I feel it—
watching the space
where I should be.

Waiting
for me to return.
To stand in front of it again.
To let it
catch up.

Some mornings
I swear
the reflection smiles
before I do.

Some nights
it doesn’t smile at all.
Just waits—
patient,
still—
knowing
I’ll come back.

Because mirrors
don’t forget faces.
They only
borrow them.
Until you’re ready
to trade.

Written By MCapture