The damp cold air smelled heavily of mildew as I approached the entrance of the cemetery. I slowly reached to push open the gate but stopped just as my hand made contact with the rusty iron. I shrieked in pain and surprise; the metal was burning hot. My friends encouraged me to keep going. It wasn't even completely dark out, they said. I took a deep breath and stood tall with feigned confidence. I...

I didn't notice anything odd at first. I'd joined the tour late and was paying more attention to the guide's lecture than the actual paintings. I'd seen them all before many times. I was a frequent visiter to this gallery. It was my Saturday tradition of sorts--morning in the park and afternoon at the gallery.

This Saturday it was pouring and I'd forgone the park and headed across the street to ...

I use to look at my reflection in the mirror. Perhaps more often than I would like to admit.

As a child I was fascinated with the wall of mirrors in my mother's bathroom. I noticed that if you looked at the long pieces of glassy silver at just the right angle they would create an optical illusion. Somehow there wouldn't be one reflection of me but a long line of them and I'd smile and wave happil...