Reflections in the Library

Reflections in the Library

I found myself in a library where every book had a mirror on its cover. As I opened each one, my reflection stared back, but with a delay – like I was seeing myself from a few seconds ago. The more I opened, the more versions of myself appeared, each slightly different. I tried to touch one, but my hand passed through like it was made of smoke. The librarian, an echo of my own voice, whispered that I was searching for a story that wasn't written yet. I kept opening books, trying to find the one that matched my current self, but they all seemed outdated.