I woke with a yawn and sat up, blinking slowly. I had gone to bed a a decent hour that night; funny how when you get enough sleep your body seems to need more.
After getting dressed and inhaling a bowl of cereal I went and brushed my teeth. Just another morning, going through the motions.
I glanced up at the mirror and saw a dark-haired boy my age standing behind me. I whipped around, but he was gone. Odd. I looked back in the mirror and there he was again. A shiver ran down my spine and I slammed down my toothbrush.
The boy disappeared. I reluctantly finished brushing and left the bathroom.
On the bus to school I racked my brain for what exactly had happened that morning. I knew it had something to do with a mirror . . . but it was like a dream. Blurred, forgotten, unimportant.
I decided to give up on remembering.