The mirror came from an estate sale, its frame carved with roses detailed enough to include individual thorns. A diagonal crack divided the glass from upper corner to lower edge, which explained why nobody else bid on it. I liked the damage. It made the object feel less decorative and more like something that had survived being used.
For a year, nothing unusual happened.
Then the crack began closing.
At first I assumed the difference was lighting. Months later, photographs confirmed that the dark line had narrowed. The change happened slowly enough to escape daily notice, yet steadily enough that by spring only a hairline remained.
One morning the glass was whole.
That was when the reflection started behaving differently.
The delays were small. I would lower my hand and see it remain raised for a fraction of a second. My reflection occasionally seemed to inhale before I did. Once, while passing through the hallway, I saw myself standing still in the mirror even though I had never stopped walking.
The dealer remembered the mirror’s history reluctantly. It came from a house where a woman had died directly in front of it. According to the estate inventory, the crack appeared the same morning. Family members claimed it had been intact the night before.
I asked whether anyone knew what caused her death.
He said the records described no injury and no illness. She had simply been found sitting before the mirror with an expression of profound exhaustion.
After that I began photographing the glass every morning.
The crack has returned.
It started as a faint line along the old path and has widened each week. I should find that reassuring. Instead, the reflection appears healthier as the glass deteriorates. Its skin has color mine lacks. Its posture is straighter. It smiles more easily.
Yesterday I noticed the carved roses changing too. Several blossoms now face inward toward the glass. Their thorns appear longer.
I have stopped touching the frame.
The mirror seems to be dividing something again, and I am beginning to suspect the crack was never damage at all. It may have been the only visible sign that two versions of the same life had finally been forced apart. What I do not yet know is which side of the glass was considered the safe one.
©2013 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys
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