Another Day

It was a bright, blue day. The sky had that deep and bottomless quality that made everything else seem small. There was a gentle breeze that brought with it a fresh clean smell.
Probably the smell of Mrs. Johnston's laundry, actually. Well it had been a romantic thought while it lasted.
What was she going to do? There was something wrong with her mirror. It was odd. She had always known the mirror was special, different. She had defended it when others told her it was ugly, or that it didn't match anything. Now she couldn't shake the nagging feeling at the pit of her stomach that told her that the mirror was... strange, wrong.
She didn't want to go back to her room. Going back would be facing the mirror. More and more she felt as if the mirror was watching her. She had even started to dress in the closet, behing a closed door so that the mirror couldn't watch her.
Was she going crazy?
After all, it was only a mirror. Mirrors are inanimate objects, they do not 'watch people'. She must be going crazy.
But if that was true, would she know she was crazy? Did crazy people know they were crazy?
The mirror would have to go. Abbie couldn't quite bring herself to get rid of it entirely, but she could stick it in a closet somewhere. It wouldn't be able to watch her then.
Yes. This was the answer to her problem.

She entered the room as silently as possible, creeping up on the mirror. She reached out with both hands to take it down from the wall. As she lifted it off the hook and started to move to the closet Abbie heard it.
'Wait!'
It was the mirror... oh god it was the mirror. She threw it away as if it had bitten her. It hit to the floor, and slid into a table. The table rocked from the impact and a precariously placed paper weight crashed into the mirror, sending the papers it had been holding scattering across the floor. But it didn't break.
The mirror didn't break.
Why didn't it break?
"Why didn't it break?" She whispered.
'I don't think it can be broken.'
That voice again. It had come from the mirror. The voice had come from the mirror. Abbie was sure she had heard it.
Oh no. Mirrors do not talk. Mirrors can't talk. How could her mirror be talking to her?
Abbie moved carefully toward the mirror. She stooped down and looked at her reflection in the strangely tinted surface. She reached out with one trembling hand to touch the smooth surface of the glass. It was cool to the touch, but Abbie felt an odd sensation pass through her fingers and up her spine at the contact.
'You can hear us!' There was undisguised joy in the voice. Abbie wasn't sure how to respond. She stared in mute disbelief at her reflection in the mirror.
'You can hear us, can't you?'
"Yes." Abbies voice was barely a hoase whisper.
'This is wonderful!' the voice continued. 'It has been...' the voice became blurry, then faded all together for a moment. When it came back the tone had changed to one of deep concern.
'Are you alright?'
Abbie searched for a way to answer that. She wasn't sure that telling the mirror that it couldn't talk was the best course of action at this point. At the same time, lying was not in her nature. She was not alright. Her mirror was talking to her.
Last time she had checked, hearing voices was not a good thing.
"I'm not hurt." Abbie said slowly. "If that's what you mean. I am... confused." She finally settled on. At least it wasn't a lie.
'Is there something wrong?' The voice sounded concerned. 'What is it?'
Abbie began to back slowly away from the mirror to the door. "Mirror's do not talk... mirror's do not talk..." she muttered under her breath. She repeated it over and over again like a mantra. She hoped that if she said it often enough, if she believed in it hard enough, it would be true.