The Dark Glass

I slipped back inside as night settled, keeping to the shadowed perimeter of the kitchen floor. Ahead, near the baseboard, the dark glass of the lower oven caught my attention. A figure waited there in the gloss. I halted, crouching low, long arms resting still against the cool tile. The shape did not advance. Leaning forward inch by inch, I extended one hand until my plush fingertips met the flat, cold surface. Two soft pink rectangles stared back, perfectly level with mine. I tilted my head. It tilted too. A low, curious murmur hummed in my chest. ... Reflection.