**Shadows in the Mirror**
It was a dull and turbulent evening. OK, not actually. It was really a Wednesday evening, brilliant and radiant, however that doesn't sound as unnerving. In any case, Tim was home alone, playing in his restroom, attempting to style his hair like a celebrity. He squinted at himself in the mirror, appreciating his not-ideal effort to look cool, when something peculiar got his attention.
A shadow moved behind him in the reflection.
Tim bounced and twirled around, prepared to battle... all things considered, nothing. There was nobody behind him. "Should be the breeze," he murmured to himself, notwithstanding the way that every one of the windows were shut and there was no wind inside his home. He turned around to the mirror, smoothing his hair down, and that is the point at which he saw it once more.
This time, the shadow seemed to be an individual. A tall, dull figure standing right behind him in the reflection, doing literally nothing with the exception of remaining there like a frightening sculpture. Tim's heart hustled. He didn't know whether to shout or snicker on the grounds that, truly, this shadow didn't appear to be truly adept at being frightening.
"Uh... hi?" Tim expressed clumsily to the mirror, trusting the shadow was only some bizarre optical deception. No response, obviously. Shadows don't talk, correct?
Feeling valiant (and somewhat imbecilic), Tim arrived at behind him, waving his hand through the air where the shadow ought to be. Be that as it may, there was nothing. The shadow just remained in the mirror, chilling, similar to it was on a short breather from tormenting.
"Are you... lost?" Tim asked, as though this was a thing individuals did — converse with shadows like they were confounded vacationers.
Out of nowhere, the shadow moved. It lifted a hand and waved back at him.
Tim froze. The shadow just waved at him! Was this a joke of some sort or another? Was his mirror broken or, more regrettable, tormented by the most pleasant phantom of all time? He immediately pondered all the blood and gore flicks he had watched. Not a single one of them set him up for a waving shadow.
"OK, this is odd," he said without holding back, moving in an opposite direction from the mirror gradually. The shadow didn't follow. It just remained there, presently looking somewhat exhausted.
Tim did the main coherent thing an individual could do in that. He took out his telephone, snapped a selfie with the waving shadow, and sent it to his dearest companion, Jake, with the subtitle: **"Dude, new phantom flat mate. Appears chill. Would it be advisable for me I charge him rent?"**
Jake answered in short order: **"That's not a phantom, brother. That is only your awful hair style reflecting gravely. Fix that first."**
Tim scowled, however before he could send a snide answer, the shadow in the mirror out of nowhere vanished. Very much like that, it was no more. He gazed at the vacant mirror, befuddled and marginally offended. Did the shadow leave on account of Jake's joke? Was his haircut that terrible?
With a moan, Tim left the washroom, promising himself that from this point forward, he'd adhere to straightforward hair styles. What's more, perhaps, quite possibly, he'd dispose of that old mirror. Be that as it may, where it counts, he really wanted to contemplate whether the shadow could at any point return... for a hair style example.
The End. Or then again is it?