_Smash! _

Glass rains down and my hand smarts with pain. A voice cries out, and hands grab me and pull me away from the scene I made. I hardly notice, don’t care. It can’t be true, can’t be true, can’t be true.

I traveled across the country to see this fabled mirror. There are stories on the news, of people who saw themselves twenty years in the future. Fame, wealth, _happiness_ is what I was expecting. My dreams come true, a life with meaning, a shadow of hope and a new world on the horizon.

The owner of the mirror is yelling at me. The sound is muffled to my ears. Anger is not worthwhile.

I spare my hand a glance. There is a shard of that cursed mirror embedded in the skin, and I pull it out, oblivious to the sharp pain.

I study the reflection, taking it all in. I feel nothing, numbness enveloping me. There is nobody in the mirror.

In twenty years, I will be gone.