Mirror in the Hall

He didn’t just see her reflection. He became it.

Ethan only came by to grab the keys. His grandmother’s house had been empty for months, and the realtor needed to clear it out. But as he walked through the main hall — the one he always avoided as a kid because it gave him weird vibes — he stopped in front of the old mirror.

Someone was there. Staring back.

But it wasn’t him.

It was a woman. Blonde, calm expression, wearing a delicate black lace pajama set that clung just right to her figure. And somehow, she mirrored his every move — until she didn’t.

There was a flash. A twist.

And Ethan dropped to his knees — though the sound wasn’t heavy or clumsy, it was soft. Graceful. Feminine.

When he stood back up… he wasn’t Ethan anymore.

The reflection told no lies. Long legs, soft curves, silky blonde hair — and the satin and lace brushing across sensitive skin in a way he’d never felt before. He ran his fingers through the golden strands, across his narrow waist, and couldn’t help but smirk. Just a little.

Behind him, the mirror glowed faintly, like it was urging him: go on — explore.

So he did.

He tried different poses. Flipped his hair. Shifted his hips slowly and admired the new shape, the way this body carried itself. It wasn’t vanity. It was curiosity. Discovery.

He didn’t know how long it would last, or why it even happened.

But one thing was clear:

The mirror didn’t just swap his body — it opened something in him.

He took one last look at the reflection and whispered,

“…Maybe I’ll need a new name too.”