I see him every day. Watching, waiting, lurking. I watch the watcher, observing his movements that perfectly reflect mine. I see his brown eyes, shock of blonde hair, and that face with the haunted look that is the byproduct of my deteriorating mental state. He looks, moves, and lives like me: a near-perfect replica of myself.

But I know the truth.

Because inside that perfectly reflected head, his thoughts are not mine but those of a killer. Cunning, calculated, and poised to strike when the opportunity best presents itself; he stalks me, inexplicably keeping up with me as I move from room to room, mirror to mirror. I know what he plans to do but I keep playing his twisted little game like I am none the wiser.

He's getting sloppy though. Every now and then, I can see his hesitation, if but for a millisecond. He knows by now that I've realized what's going on. He wants to kill me but I keep just barely escaping his grasp. I'm looking at him right now. He wants me to turn my back to him, to give him the chance he's waited for so long to get. I won't allow it. I'll fight his game until he finally has to take action. I won't be stabbed in the back by a coward.

You probably think I'm crazy, that these are just the ravings of a lunatic. But I'm right. Look into the eyes of your doppelganger. Do the one thing they can't avoid. Reach out to the cold glass. Expose their secret. Know the truth.

I know the truth.

Sometimes, when I stare at him long enough...

He blinks first.