The Mirror

Your first turn through the room, you avoided looking at the mirror. Now, you force yourself to face it. 

The glass is old and spotted, the backing obviously falling away in places so that the reflection is missing, or else severely muddled. A few clear patches dot the length of the mirror and you move towards one, holding your breath as the pressure builds up in your chest. You offer a silent prayer that when you see your reflection, nothing happens.

Your reflection comes into view. You release your breath in a heavy sigh when there are no signs of corruption or change to your face. You look precisely the same as…well, come to think of it, you don’t seem to remember what you should look like. Staring at your reflection, you can’t seem to think of seeing your reflection in any other mirror. 

You shift your weight from foot to foot, watching your reflection as it shifts with you. After taking one more step to the side, you realize that you’re perfectly aligned with the portraits on the wall behind you. They’ve been hung at such a height that the perspective when looking into the mirror lines up your face precisely with one of the faces in the portrait. You lean right and left out of view, gauging how perfect the match is.

Weirdly enough, it seems exact.

You’re not sure what this means. It’s certainly interesting, but you get the feeling it still isn’t everything you’re looking for.