Eron, who owned the mirror room, crouched quietly against one of the doors. There were two in the room, painted midnight blue beside the mirrors. The one to his right led to the outside, the one he hid by led into his home, attached to the room that was his life. He stared directly across the room to the tiny mirror, barely a shard of glass when he’d bought it, which had caught his interest a few nights ago.

He’d come into the room silently, polish in hand, and had been shocked to see a tiny woman standing in front of the mirror. She was beautiful, with flowing golden hair and perfect little features. She had brushed her fingertips against them mirror, her eyes melancholy, before fluttering out the open door. Every night since, he had sat awake in the room, waiting for her return.

Early this morning, a king had offered to buy the littlest mirror, and Eron had seriously considered it. But he remembered the special attention she had paid to that mirror, and declined.

You see, the mirror was already hers.