Gemotions

"The art gallery to your brother, Ethan," the lawyer intoned. He fixed his gaze on her, and his voice was neutral. "And to you, Olivia… the mirror." Olivia stared at the tall, ornate mirror that had been a fixture in her grandmother's bedroom. It stood in a corner, its surface dark, reflecting nothing but the gloom of the room.

A wave of nausea washed over her. She knew the mirror, the stories whispered about it. The reflection, they said, wasn’t always her own. She shifted, wanting to turn away, but she felt rooted to the spot.

Her pulse quickened. The silence in the room became oppressive. She felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. The air around the mirror seemed to vibrate, as if anticipating something. She held her breath.