The problem wasn’t that I saw a woman in the mirror.The problem was that she wasn’t me.At first, I thought it was exhaustion. I had spent too many hours staring at old photographs, trying to restore faces that time had nearly erased. My eyes were tired, my head was aching, and the apartment was unusually quiet.I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, studying my reflection.Same eyes. Same hair. Same familiar features.Then I smiled.My reflection didn’t.I froze.For a brief moment, the woman in the mirror simply stared at me. Her expression was calm, almost amused, as though she knew something I didn’t.I blinked.She smiled back.I stepped away from the mirror, telling myself it was nothing. A trick of the light. A tired mind playing games.But the uneasiness followed me into the bedroom.On my desk lay an old photograph I had found earlier that afternoon. It showed two women standing side by side in front of a white house. They looked identical.Not similar. Not vaguely alike.
آخر تحديث : 2026-11-07
