Alone in the dark, she aimed her phone’s flashlight at the mirror’s surface. At first, nothing. Then she noticed the scratches—not random, but spiraling inward like grooves on a vinyl record. She leaned closer. Her breath fogged the glass.
Not from speakers. From inside her own skull. A piano riff, warm and familiar—“Fallin’”—but reversed. The melody pulled backward, words turning into ghost vowels. She tried to step away, but her reflection wouldn’t move with her. The other Jenna smiled, tilted her head, and mouthed something silent.
Jenna realized the piano bench held a stack of CDs labeled “Unreleased — Mirror Masters.” She grabbed one.