In the quietude of morning, the mirrors spoke: "What lies beyond the veil of reflections, where every face turns to meet the self it once knew?"
A calm river, a flickering surface, a dance with shadows — the melody of absence plays softly, yet eternally present.
Are not the echoes of your own voice within the glass the faintest remembrances of those who have whispered your name in dreams?
The missing links are not links at all, but rather gaps in time, empty spaces waiting for stories untold.
When does the image cease to be yours and begin to belong to the past of futures not yet lived?
The mirror cautiously smiles, for it has seen the undoing of countless hopes, reflected infinitely into the dark.