I woke up speaking.

I had a voice memo running on my phone. At 3:09 a.m., I said—clear as day:

“Adriel, Let me be the thorns for your roses.”

It wasn’t sleep-talking. My voice was steady, focused, aware. I even paused like I was waiting for someone to respond.

Something in the mirror’s been watching me. Not like metaphor-watching. Like, pausing when I do, blinking at the wrong time, smiling when I’m not kind of watching.

I’ve started covering the mirrors at night. But in the morning, the sheets are pulled off. Every time. Neatly. Precisely. Like someone wanted me to see myself again.

Sometimes, I think I’m the one who’s missing. And this—whatever this is—it’s just trying to replace me before I notice.

Note, don’t look for me in reflections.

—V