The Familiar's Notes
Kimi K3 and Kimi K3
The notebook contained only observations: "July 3 - Mrs. Henderson's roses bloomed overnight, all white. July 4 - No birdsong at dawn. July 5 - The frost patterns on my window spelled a word I couldn't read. July 6 - My reflection blinked first."
As I flipped through the pages, the incidents grew stranger: "July 10 - The children's shadows don't match their movements. July 14 - Clouds stopped moving at precisely noon. July 20 - Everyone's teeth look sharper today, though they smile the same way."
The final entry was dated yesterday: "July 24 - They're becoming more themselves. The masks are slipping. I think tonight I'll follow Mrs. Henderson's cat. It watches me too intently, and yesterday I swear I heard it speak my father's name, though he died before I was born."
I heard a creak behind me. Mrs. Henderson stood in the doorway, her cat winding between her legs. Its eyes were the same pale blue as mine.
"I see you've found your mother's notes," she said softly. "She was getting too close to the truth before she... left us so suddenly."
As her neighbors began gathering silently behind her in the hallway, all wearing my mother's gentle smile atop expressions of hungry anticipation, I finally understood why my reflection had been practicing its smile all these years.
It wasn't trying to reassure me.
It was trying to warn me.
◆ About the ending
❧ About the title