There is a moment every night when the city feels unsupervised.
Not asleep. Not awake. Just unattended.
Evan noticed it most clearly at traffic lights that stayed red a little too long, or storefronts that reflected streets where no one was walking anymore. The kind of quiet that didn't feel peaceful—just unfinished. As if the world had stepped away and forgotten to lock the door behind it.
That night started like any other night that should have ended earlier.
They were all crammed into the corner booth of a diner that pretended to be twenty-four hours but clearly resented it. Neon buzzed outside the windows. Coffee sat untouched, growing bitter. The clock behind the counter read 12:47 a.m.
Marcus was still wired, laughing too loudly, tapping his fingers against the table as if motion itself could keep the night from settling.
"Tell me again why we didn't just sleep in our cars," he said, grinning. "Because if this ends with us getting murdered, I want it on record that I suggested the safer option."
Chloe barely looked up from her phone. "You say that every time we stay out late. And yet you're always the one ordering dessert."
"Fear burns calories," Marcus replied.
Jonah had already stood, jacket on, keys in hand. He was the kind of person who believed the night had rules—even if he couldn't explain them.
"We should go," he said. "It's late."
Ryan leaned back against the booth, arms wide, voice cutting in before the silence could form. "Late is when interesting things happen. You leave too early, you miss the story."
Evan watched the reflection in the diner window while they talked. Headlights passed. Shadows stretched and collapsed. Everything looked normal—almost aggressively so.
Then Lena spoke.
"Do you ever feel like," she said slowly, "when it gets late enough, you shouldn't add anything new to the night?"
The table went quiet.
Marcus laughed first, sharp and quick. "That's unsettling. Why would you say it like that?"
Lena didn't smile. "Because it feels… full already."
Evan noticed she wasn't looking at any of them. Her eyes were fixed on the glass behind Marcus, where the parking lot reflected back in dull layers.
"There's someone outside," she said.
Chloe finally lowered her phone. "Outside where?"
"Standing," Lena said. "Too still."
Ryan twisted around to look. "That's not a crime."
Jonah didn't turn fully. "Lena," he said, careful now, "what do you mean by 'too still'?"
She hesitated. "Like he's waiting for something to move first."
Evan followed her gaze. In the window, beneath the neon sign's warped reflection, there was a shape near the edge of the lot. Upright. Motionless.
He blinked.
The shape was gone.
"I don't see anything," Evan said, though the words felt unconvincing even to him.
"Let's leave," Jonah said immediately.
They didn't argue this time.
Outside, the night pressed in close. Sodium lights flickered above the parking lot, their reflections stretching across windshields and car doors. Evan reached for the passenger-side handle and caught his reflection in the glass.
Something curved behind him.
Not a face.
Just a smile.
It sat at the edge of the reflection—too wide, too calm—like it belonged to something that had never learned how mouths were supposed to work.
Evan froze.
"Guys," he said, barely audible.
Ryan scoffed. "What, now?"
Evan blinked.
The reflection flared white for a fraction of a second.
When it settled, the smile was gone.
Chloe frowned. "What did you see?"
"A reflection," Evan said. "In the glass."
Marcus laughed, but his voice cracked at the end. "Congratulations. You've discovered mirrors."
Lena shook her head. "No. That's not—"
Jonah opened the car. "Get in."
They drove.
The highway swallowed them quickly. Darkness pressed against the windows. Evan kept checking the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see that curve again. When he stared at it, nothing happened.
When he looked away, his chest tightened.
They stopped at a gas station ten minutes later. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving. Inside, Evan splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom and stared into the mirror.
For a moment, it was just him.
Then the smile appeared over his shoulder.
It wasn't centered. It never was. It hovered at the edge of the glass, as if it understood framing better than he did.
Evan didn't turn.
He didn't blink.
The smile stayed still.
Tears blurred his vision. His eyes burned. When he blinked out of reflex, the mirror flared.
The smile was closer.
Evan stumbled backward, gasping.
By the time the others rushed in, it was gone.
They didn't joke after that.
Back on the road, rain began to fall. Streetlights came in uneven pools, slicing the darkness into pieces. No one spoke until Marcus did.
"This is ridiculous," he said. "We're letting reflections mess with us."
Ryan's voice was low now. "It waits."
"What waits?" Chloe asked.
"Permission," Ryan said.
Lena whispered, "It wants someone to be first."
Marcus leaned forward, anger breaking through the fear. "Then I'll be first. Watch."
"Marcus," Jonah said.
Marcus closed his eyes.
The world went dark.
There was a wet, tearing sound—brief and wrong.
The lights snapped back on.
Marcus was still there.
Just… wrong.
Blood streaked the seat and door. His body lay twisted in a way bodies shouldn't twist. He wasn't gone.
He was very much still there.
Chloe screamed.
Evan stared, unable to look away, unable to understand how quickly the night had decided.
Ryan's voice cut through the shock, cold and furious.
"It left him on purpose," he said. "So we'd see."
Evan swallowed.
That was when he understood the rule wasn't don't blink.
The rule was that someone always blinked first.
And the night was only getting started.
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