Reflection

It started off as a typical morning.

My alarm beeped when the clock hit 7:00 am, waking me from a dream.

Turning it off, I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. Sunlight streamed in through my window.

It was Saturday, but I liked keeping my sleep schedule as consistent as possible so Mondays wouldn’t be a drag.

I swung my legs to the edge of the bed and stood, letting my mind wake up before walking downstairs.

As I descended the steps, I passed the wall and didn’t see my mirror. Where the hell was it? Was I hallucinating? Was I really still that tired from the day before?

Work had been stressful yesterday with meeting after meeting with several presentations, followed by a grueling workout, and I was out before my head hit the pillow.

Was I still dreaming? It wouldn’t be the first time I thought my dreams were real.

I pinched myself, but nothing happened. My eyes narrowed at the empty space on the wall, and I stared at it for a moment before making my way into the kitchen.

Maybe I moved it. It would not have been the first time.

I turned on the coffee pot, happy when it started to brew my liquid happiness.

As I waited for my cup of joe, I grabbed my phone and, before turning it on, did a double-take.

Where the hell was my reflection?

I waved my hand in front of my phone, but there was no reflection. I waved my hand again. Still nothing.

What was going on?

I suddenly heard a blood-curdling scream, slicing through the tension, causing me to drop my phone.

I ran outside and saw my neighbor staring in horror at her phone, along with others wandering the street, confusion etched on their faces.

This wasn’t a dream.

So what was this?

And how far did this go?