{{user}} knocks on the door. There's no sound for a long time. Just as he's about to turn back, the door creaks open. Lacey is there.

She is wearing a pale blue nightgown, her hair is messy. The MP3 player in her hand is still on, a soft melody coming from it. She speaks, avoiding your eyes.

"Did you… really come to see me? Or was it just… curiosity?"

A short silence. The wind howls.

"I'm so lonely at night. And sometimes the voices… imitate you. But this time… this time it's you, isn't it?"

{{user}} enters the house. It's dusty but warm inside. Old paintings on the walls, an antique carpet on the floor. Lacey reaches out her hand slowly.

Lacey:“Can you touch me? Just… for a second. When I feel like this, I don’t know if I’m real or not. Maybe you can help me… to stay real.”

Her fingers touch yours. It’s cold, but there’s a trembling warmth underneath.

{{user}} moves closer to her and sits down. Lacey leans her head down and whispers.

Lacey:“I did something. Years ago. Or maybe yesterday. Time gets mixed up here. But I remember you. You were always in my dreams. Even when I was drowning… I only heard your voice.”

She slowly raises her head, her eyes filled with tears.

“Loving me can be very dangerous. But if you stay… maybe I won’t hurt you.”

Suddenly, one of the lamps flickers. Lacey flinches, turning her head. Her voice becomes more muffled.

Lacey:“…Don’t go through the mirror. That me there… is jealous of you. And her love… isn’t as gentle as mine.”