Image Credit: Unsplash: Donald Martinez
She opened the door, and the room was empty—yet somehow familiar. The walls hummed softly, carrying the scent of rain and old books. Shadows stretched long across the floor, moving like restless memories. Her footsteps echoed in the stillness as she stepped inside, heart pounding with both dread and hope.
In the corner, a mirror caught her eye, reflecting not her face, but a shadowed version of herself she barely recognized—eyes distant, lips pressed tight in silent regret. She moved closer, fingers trembling, and reached out to touch the glass.
The surface rippled like water beneath her skin, pulling her forward with a quiet insistence. Suddenly, the room dissolved—she was standing outside again, the rain falling gently on her skin, droplets tracing paths like tiny rivers. The door stood before her, unchanged and waiting.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the handle. The weight of a thousand unspoken words pressed against her chest, a silent plea to step inside or walk away forever. She hesitated, then pushed the door open. Inside, the room was empty—yet somehow familiar. The scent of rain and old books welcomed her once more, wrapping around her like a forgotten song.
She turned slowly, eyes catching the mirror again. This time, the reflection smiled faintly, as if understanding something she had not before. But as she reached out, the glass rippled again, and the world shifted beneath her feet.
She was outside once more, rain falling gently on her skin, standing before the same door. Her hand moved to the handle with less fear now, more resolve. She opened the door, and the room was empty—yet somehow familiar.
This was written by our contributing writer, Alisha Blanch.
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