SHE SMILED FIRST

I never thought
much about
mirrors.
They were just mirrors.
Something that showed me
what I already knew
was there.
My face.
My hands.
My eyes.
Nothing mysterious
about that.

Until one morning
I smiled
and my reflection
smiled first.

It was so quick
I almost missed it
a fraction
of a second.
Nothing more.

I stared at myself.
Then smiled again.
This time
I watched carefully.
The reflection smiled
when I did.

I laughed,
because obviously
I had simply
imagined it.

The next morning
I stood in front
of the mirror,
lifted my hand.
The reflection
lifted hers.
Perfectly.

I lowered it.
She lowered hers.
I tilted my head.
She tilted hers.

Everything normal
until I stopped moving.
She didn’t.

Just for a second
she remained
exactly where
she was.
Then she blinked.
I didn’t.

I stepped backward.
She stayed.
I stepped forward.
She did too.

I stared at her.
She stared at me.
And then
she smiled.
I wasn’t smiling.

I backed away
from the mirror.
She didn’t.
She stayed there,
watching me.

I left the room.
When I came back
everything was normal.
My reflection
moved with me,
blinked with me,
breathed with me.

I almost
convinced myself
nothing had
happened.

Until I noticed
something on the mirror
a fingerprint
from the inside.

I touched the glass.
Cold.
Solid.
Impossible.

I wiped it away.
The reflection
watched me.
I wiped again.
She looked annoyed.

I stopped.
She stopped.

I whispered,
What are you?

Her lips moved,
but I heard nothing.
Then I realized
she had answered
before I asked.

I leaned closer.
She leaned closer.

And for the first time
I noticed
her eyes
weren’t looking
at me.
They were looking
past me..
at something
behind me.

I turned around.
Nothing.

When I looked back
she was gone.

Not the reflection.
Me.

The mirror
showed the room:
the walls,
the window,
the chair.
But I wasn’t there.

I moved in front
of the glass.
Nothing.
I waved my hand.
Nothing.
I stepped closer.
Nothing.

And then,
slowly,
someone stepped
into the reflection
from somewhere
behind me.

It was me.
Standing exactly
where I had been.
Except
she was already
smiling.

I looked behind me.
Nothing.
Looked back.
She was still there.

Then she raised
her hand
and placed it
against the glass.

I raised mine—
but she didn’t.
She had already
done it.

I stopped.
She stopped.
I moved.
She moved.

No.

I realized
I was moving
after her.
Not her after me.

She lowered her hand.
I lowered mine.
She turned her head.
I turned mine.
She smiled.
I smiled.

And suddenly
I understood.

The mirror
wasn’t reflecting me.
It was showing me
what to do.

I took one step
back.
She took one step
forward.

I froze.
She kept coming.
Closer.
Closer.
Until her face
filled the glass.

And she whispered:
You’ve been
following me
your whole life.

I couldn’t move.
She smiled.

Then the lights
went out.

When they came back on
I was standing
in front of the mirror,
exactly where
I had started.

Everything normal.
My reflection
was smiling.

And this time
I smiled first.