The Misaligned Mirror

There's a strange rumor circulating in old apartments and isolated villas. It's said that if you look into a mirror past midnight, very occasionally, your reflection moves before you do. Or, even if you stop, your reflection remains still for a moment, exhibiting a bizarre time lag. I dismissed it as mere superstition, just one of those bitter urban legends that tend to emerge when old buildings are emptied out, awaiting demolition.

My visit to the redevelopment site on the outskirts of the city for documentation purposes was purely work-related. The apartment complex, deserted by all its residents, was filled only with darkness and dust. I fumbled my way through the corridor, where even the emergency lights were off, heading towards a specific unit. Inside, a single, old, massive wall-mounted mirror remained.

As I set up my camera, I glanced at the mirror. For a moment, a chilling sensation, as if I had met an unfamiliar gaze, swept over me. I dismissed it as an illusion, probably due to the dim lighting and my fatigue. I didn't think much of it, yet somehow, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

I stood before the mirror to catch my breath for a moment. Casually, I raised my right hand to run it through my hair. My reflection in the mirror did the same. Perfect synchronization. I was about to assure myself it was just fatigue.

When I lowered my hand, my reflection in the mirror lowered its hand a beat later. A very subtle difference. A time lag of less than 0.1 seconds, which someone might attribute to an optical illusion. But at that moment, the word 'rumor' flashed like lightning in my mind.

My heart began to pound frantically. I raised my hand again. And simultaneously, I closed and opened my eyes. My reflection in the mirror was also raising its hand. But this time, the moment I closed my eyes, I had a strange feeling of déjà vu that my reflection in the mirror remained with its eyes open. My breath caught in my throat.

Slowly, very slowly, I raised my right hand, feigning to touch my reflection's shoulder. My reflection in the mirror also raised its hand identically. When my hand touched the mirror, the reflection's hand also touched the mirror's surface. But when I withdrew my hand, the reflection's hand remained. My reflection in the mirror was still holding its hand on its own shoulder, gazing at me with empty eyes.

I was horrified. I couldn't move. My reflection in the mirror slowly lowered its hand. Then, it subtly raised the corner of its mouth. It was my face, but it bore a chilling smile I could never make. My reflection in the mirror tilted its head slightly, as if observing me with interest, like a being it had never seen before.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. As if possessed, I bolted from the spot without even gathering my camera equipment. I ran across the corridor and down the stairs. Until the emergency exit door of the derelict apartment slammed shut, I couldn't bring myself to look back.

Since that day, the apartment's demolition was accelerated for safety reasons. Occasionally, the old mirror, which must have been destroyed inside without being recovered, comes to mind. And very rarely, I'm seized by a chilling illusion that my reflection in the mirror moves slightly later than usual. Perhaps that mirror...