You follow the need to find the woman you saw, you turn the corner at the end of the hall only to remember it’s a dead end.

Another mirror hangs on the wall and you’re shocked to realize you know the person in the reflection,

that it is you, in your clothes, looking back at you. You haven’t recognized yourself in months.

I think it’s disgusting, you aren’t that person and you should know it. How could that possibly be you?

Your shrill doorbell sounds off down the hall. Who could that be?