the mirror room

You stand before a wall of fractured glass. One pane fogs up as if someone is breathing behind it. A message appears in the condensation:

"you looked too long."

Ash was here. You can still see his eyeliner print on the mirror edge. Someone wrote a line of poetry in smeared ink:

"i keep haunting places i once felt seen."

A mirror tilts on its own. You catch a glimpse of yourself— but your reflection is mouthing something else entirely.

"let me out."