So there I was, just another Tuesday morning, brushing my teeth, staring into the abyss of a bathroom mirror. But guess what? The mirror, it wasn't just reflecting. It was talking. Not with words carved in stone, but with something casual and bordering on the surreal.

"You ever think about how each reflection is just a moment captured, one that never repeats? Me neither," it said, fogging up just a bit, like it was anticipating my next move.

The mirror's surface seemed slightly askew, as if it was a window to another dimension or maybe just to the neighbor's backyard. Hard to tell sometimes, really.