
Hospitals are full of glass. Every cabinet, every monitor, every polished tile. I’ve started avoiding my own reflection.

Hospitals are full of glass. Every cabinet, every monitor, every polished tile. I’ve started avoiding my own reflection.

A teenager.
Portland. Twenty twenty-five. October seventeenth.
My friends dared me to play Bloody Mary. Stupid, right? Lights out, candle lit, three whispers. I said no. Then I said yes because no one wants to be the chicken.
People pay me to make them shine. I tease, I spray, I polish until the camera loves them. But lately the mirrors love them too much.
Mirror Mirror: Day Twelve – The Officer continues the 31-day October cycle, where every surface might be watching back.