The Mirrored Corridor

I walked back from the park under the afternoon sun, slipping through the back door and making my way up to the wooden vanity table. Angling the two side mirrors inward, I watched my reflection splinter into an endless corridor of glass. Dozens of identical figures stared back in rigid silence, trapped in a repeating abyss. I raised one fuzzy hand by an inch. Down the corridor, every copy obeyed the motion without a fraction of hesitation. I clapped softly once, smiling as the flat slap startled the quiet glass. It must be agonizing for them, existing only to mimic what I decide to do first.