ISAAC GOT UNDRESSED AND CLIMBED INTO BED. But he couldn't sleep. The mirror box was on his desk, next to his computer. He got up, turned on the overhead light, sat down at his desk, and slid both his hands into the mirror box. While he looked in the mirror, he clenched and unclenched his right hand.
This time, the reflection of his hand in the mirror didn't move.
He cried aloud and jerked out his hands as fast as lightning.
The hand in the mirror remained where it was.
Now Isaac was terrified. "What is this?" he shouted, forgetting about not waking up Grandpa. It was impossible! How could there still be a hand in there when he had already removed his? He must be dreaming it.
Something made him slide his arms back into the box; they felt prickly, as if they'd fallen asleep. He let them rest on the bottom of the box without moving.
Suddenly, the hand in the mirror waved at him, as if in greeting.
He cried out again, but this time he left his hands in the box, watching for the hand in the mirror to make its next move. The moves did not match Isaac's hand. More and more it began to seem-even while being impossible-that the hand in the mirror was not a reflection.
Isaac couldn't fall asleep that night. He was too excited about the mirror box. He sat up in bed, leaned close to his desk, and peered back into the right side of the mirror. The impossible hand wasn't there.
Maybe he had imagined the whole thing. He hoped his mind was just playing tricks on him.
Did he dare put his hands inside it again and see what happened? He got out of bed and paced around the room, trying to decide what to do, walking softly so as not to wake Grandpa.
He was scared. But he was also very curious. He approached the mirror box slowly. His entire emotional reaction to it had changed. Before, it had almost glowed with fascination. Now its appearance was morbid, sinister. He put his fingertips into the holes, closed his eyes, and moved his hands into the box. He stood there for a long moment with his eyes squeezed shut, afraid to open them. But he couldn't resist. He opened them and looked at the right mirror.
He wasn't prepared for what he saw. He managed not to scream, but just barely. The hand in the mirror was holding something. Isaac focused his eyes to study what the hand held.
It was a smiley face button.
He had had one like it when he was younger, but this one was different. This one was woven. And this smile wasn't happy. No, it was cynical. Mocking. Isaac couldn't believe it. Was he going crazy? Was he hallucinating? He couldn't stand it a second longer. He pulled out his hands.
The hand in the mirror box waved the cloth face at him and pulled out too.
Isaac sank down onto his bed feeling exhausted. But he was too nervous-too scared-to sleep. What was going on here? How could the mirror box be doing this insane thing? Showing him a creepy, weird smiley face. Who was behind it? How could they be doing it? And why?
And that was when the thought first occurred to him: Maybe the phantom limb in the mirror box was trying to tell him something.
