It started as a joke. My roommate and I found an old mirror at a thrift shop, and she swore it looked cursed. “Every horror movie starts like this,” she laughed.

The first night, I heard whispering. Soft, just barely audible. I thought it was the wind. But then I noticed something weird—the mirror never reflected me right. My smile looked... wrong, like my reflection was faking it.

One night, I tested it. Smiled at myself, then looked away. When I turned back, my reflection was still smiling.

I moved out the next day.