《镜中人》· 双面镜低语

Screeching violins swell as flickering fluorescent tubes buzz and stutter overhead, throwing his shadow into stroboscopic fragments across the two-way glass. The reflection tilts its head against his own rhythm, fingers pressing from the other side as if testing the boundary between them. He stumbles back, knocking over a steel chair, breath ragged, while the mirror-man leans impossibly close, mouthing words a half-second before he speaks them. A single overhead bulb finally shatters, plunging the room into stuttering half-light. Camera holds tight on his widening eyes as the reflection steps calmly through the glass, unbroken, and utterly certain of who is real.