Cracks In Time

Rosemary was browsing a tiny antique shop on McDougall Street when she saw the silver hand mirror. It was tarnished but the delicate butterfly design was lovely.

As she turned it over, Rosemary discovered a series of cracks making a starburst pattern in the glass. She was disappointed, yet gazed into the mirror’s face nonetheless.

She was shocked at the reflection looking back at her.

It wasn’t Rosemary’s face, yet the image was instantly familiar.

The dark-eyed woman looked back steadily. Suddenly Rosemary was flooded with unfamiliar memories and the certainty that somehow she was this woman… or had been.