The Glass Face

I found a small, round pocket mirror propped against the foot of the low dressing table. Morning light gleamed softly across its brass rim. I paused a few paces back, watching the quiet shape waiting inside the glass. Two long plush ears were listening just like mine. Taking three slow, padded hops, I tilted my head to one side. The rabbit in the glass tilted too, gentle and still. I reached out one front paw and tapped the cool surface. A muted clink answered through the room, and our paws rested together against the glass.