She arrived at a hotel that didn’t match the listing — empty lot, dark windows, and a red neon sign buzzing against the dark.
Inside, a note waited: 'Room 413 awaits you.' She hadn’t seen it when she came in.
The hallway was still. The door to Room 413 stood open. A key hung on the wall, waiting.
The room itself looked untouched — too perfect. But the mirror above the dresser didn’t reflect her. Or anything, really.
Then the bathroom door creaked open. Something was in the mirror. Watching.
When she touched the glass, the reflection moved on its own. Grinning.
By the end, it wasn’t a mirror anymore. It was a door. And something had come through.
A man who lived quietly — from childhood playgrounds to silent TV dinners — finds himself reborn under surgical lights. In that moment, he sees the life ahead… and remembers the one just lived.
The light is familiar. The silence repeats. The signal has already started.
He returned every year. Same booth. Same pose. But the photo strip always showed someone else — an old man he didn’t recognize. As he aged, the photo stayed the same.
By the end, the booth was gone. Just a worn bulletin board remained, and a missing poster with the same old face from the strip. A little girl passed by and stopped. She didn’t know who he was. But she stared like she should.
