When the elevator opened on the minus 18th floor, I smelled the gardenia fragrance that my wife often uses.
In front of me is the apartment 404 that I just left. Even the remaining warmth of the coffee on the table is exactly the same.
The neighbor pointed out the window in horror: what should have been a night view of the city was now endless emptiness.
A cold female voice suddenly sounded: "Welcome to Jingyuan Apartment."
"Rule 1: Residents on each floor must kill their own mirror image before midnight."
"Otherwise, you will be trapped in the mirror world forever."
I looked at my smiling "me" in the mirror, holding in his hand the bloody tie from the night my wife disappeared.
