The fog hung heavy on May 20th, clinging to everything in its path. I was staring out the kitchen window when a glint of light caught my eye. It seemed to be coming from the far end of the yard, reflecting off something I couldn't quite make out. A shiver of curiosity, mixed with a strange sense of foreboding, ran down my spine. I pulled on my jacket and crept out into the night, the damp grass muffling my footsteps. As I approached, the source of the light became clear. It was a mirror, propped against the old oak tree, its surface shimmering in the moonlight. I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat. Something about it felt wrong. But I couldn't resist. I took a step closer and peered into the glass. Instead of my own reflection, I saw a swirling mass of garbage – rotting food, broken toys, discarded clothes. It was repulsive, yet I couldn't look away. What did it mean? Why was I seeing this?