Ryan wandered the downtown shops with twenty-three dollars in his pocket, searching for his mother's birthday gift. The money felt inadequate—like their relationship had become in recent days. His mom had developed a bitchy attitude ever since he started working. But she was still his mother, and he still loved her.

Ryan was just out of high school and had a job at the local gym. The pay was poor, but he got to use all the exercise equipment he wanted, as long as he wasn't working, which also helped keep his young 20-year-old body firm.

He never had any trouble dating any girl he went after. His dark hair and brown eyes made him look quite handsome. But Ryan developed a taste for the more mature women once he started at the gym, and with all the older women trying to stay toned, he didn't have much trouble getting his fill.

That didn't go over well with Lisa, Ryan's mother. At 38, she looked more like 28 but felt like she was 48, if that makes any sense. Lisa didn't care for Ryan chasing women her age and older. But he was an adult now, and she knew she couldn't stop it.

Lisa's appearance wasn't the only thing that looked 28; her body did also. Her size C chest and slim waist were in perfect proportion to her 5-foot-6 height. Lisa's long, dark hair and blue eyes were the envy of all her friends.

Lisa and Ryan were the only family they had; Ryan's dad had died in a car crash just before his 19th birthday, leaving him and his mom to fend for themselves. The insurance he had did help, but the policy wasn't large enough to set them up for life; they both had to work to make ends meet.

As Ryan walked around, he eyed a strange store with a bunch of odd-looking things in the window. He figured it wouldn't hurt to take a look around; maybe something would spark his interest. And besides, how expensive could any of that stuff have been? It all looked used.

The shop door creaked open, triggering a tinny bell that announced Ryan's arrival with a shrill jingle.

Wow, how old-fashioned is that, he thought.

The place almost didn't look open; it was kind of dark, with a bunch of old incandescent lights dangling from the ceiling. Large rows of metal storage shelves were throughout the place, and the wooden floors were all dusty and squeaked with every step he took.

"May I help you?" a voice cried out from behind a slate-top counter.

Ryan turned to face a very old man. He looked ancient to Ryan, maybe 70 or older; his hair was all white, and he was hunched over a little. He reminded Ryan of an old shoe cobbler.

"Just wanted to take a look around if that's okay," Ryan said.

"Anything in particular you looking for?"

Ryan shrugged. "Just looking for a birthday present for my mom. Something different, you know? Not flowers or chocolate."

The old man's eyes glinted. "A birthday present for your mother, hmm? Tell me, young man—what kind of relationship do you have with her these days?"

What kind of a question is that to ask, Ryan thought to himself.

The old man's gnarled fingers tapped on the counter. "Forgive an old shopkeeper's curiosity. It's just that different mothers appreciate different gifts. A woman close to her son might want something sentimental, while others..." He paused, studying Ryan's face. "Others might need something to bridge a distance."

Ryan shifted his weight, his eyes dropping to the dusty floorboards. "We barely talk these days. After dad died, she just...changed."

"Oh, I'm very sorry for your loss, son. As a matter of fact, I lost my mother a couple of years ago, so I kind of know what it's like to lose a loved one."

Ryan looked away. "Dad was never in the picture, not really. Mom and I..." His voice trailed off as he traced a finger along the edge of a dusty shelf. "We used to tell each other everything. After the funeral, that just... stopped."

The old man stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Sounds like your mother's grief might have created this distance between you two."

"Maybe, I don't know."

The old man's eyes lit up. "I believe I have the perfect item for your situation," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's stored upstairs, though. Would you mind keeping an eye on the shop while I retrieve it? I won't be long."

Ryan hesitated, glancing at the door, but something in the old man's earnest expression had made him stay. The guy seemed to actually care about helping him reconnect with his mother.

"Okay, no problem."

"Thanks, I'll be right down."

The old man shuffled toward a rusty cage elevator at the back of the shop and disappeared inside with a clang of the folding gate.

Ryan stood alone in the dim store, tracking the old man's movements by sound. The ancient pulley system groaned overhead, cables straining as the elevator ascended. A minute later, the mechanism shuddered to a stop, followed by the screech of the gate being pushed open. Footsteps creaked across the ceiling, then paused. Something heavy scraped across the floor above, punctuated by the old man's labored breathing.

Metal groaned as the elevator descended. When the cage door rattled open, the old man emerged, struggling with something substantial draped in yellowed fabric. His knobby fingers pulled away the sheet with a theatrical flourish.

Ryan found himself facing an ornate-looking glass. The oval mirror gleamed within an elaborate gold frame, intricate leaf patterns winding around its circumference. It stood balanced on a base formed by two gilded lion's paws, their claws seeming to grip the wooden floor.

"Well, there she is, son. I think your mother is going to love this."

Ryan didn't want to hurt the old man's feelings, not after all the work he knew the guy had put into digging this out for him.

Ryan ran his hand through his hair, staring at the ornate mirror. "It's beautiful, but I was thinking of something more... portable. Something she could keep on her dresser, maybe?"

"Son, listen to me. If you want your relationship back to the way it used to be with your mom, this is your answer. Do you know what this is?"

"Um, yeah, it's a mirror."

The old man squinted, leaning in so close that his breath tickled Ryan's cheek. "This isn't just a mirror, young man. It's a looking glass." He paused and seemed to search Ryan's face, waiting for him to get it, then added, "And not just any looking glass. This one has... special abilities."

Ryan now figured the guy must have been a nut job, with special abilities; he just had to ask.

"What special abilities?"

The old man leaned in, his voice dropping to a growl. "I recognize that look. I wore it myself when I first saw this mirror." His gnarled fingers clamped around Ryan's wrist with surprising strength. "This looking glass mended what broke between my mother and me. It'll do the same for you." The grip tightened. "But before it's yours, I need your word on something."

"What's that?"

"When the time is right, I need you to smash it apart."

"You want me to break this mirr.. I mean, looking glass?"

"Yes, and bury it someplace that no one will ever find it again."

"And when will I know the right time?"

The old man's eyes narrowed. "Trust me. When the moment comes, you won't have any doubt." His gnarled fingers tightened around Ryan's wrist. "So, do we have an agreement, young man?"

Ryan had thought long and hard, but figured the best way out was not having enough money; it had to be very expensive.

"I guess so, so how much is it anyway?"

"It's my gift to you. I was given this by a man who helped me and my mom so very long ago; it's my turn to return the favor."

Ryan was now getting interested in what the gentleman was saying. Maybe this wasn't bullshit.

"So why didn't you smash the mirror?"

Ryan waited for an answer; the old man looked like he was deep in thought.

"Because I was weak. I wish I did; things might have turned out differently. I miss her so much now."

The old man's eyes misted over, and Ryan felt a twinge in his chest. What would it be like to miss someone that much? To have that kind of connection with his mother, only to lose it?

Maybe I should just try the mirror thing, Ryan thought, running the idea over in his head. Really, what was the worst that could happen? That his mom wouldn't like the gift?

"Okay, I guess we have a deal, but I'm going to need someone to help me get this home."

"Nope, I'll gift-wrap it and have it delivered to your address."

Ryan agreed and gave the old man his address. As he left the store, he took one look back at the old man and thought, I hope there's some truth to this looking glass thing. I would love to get back to being close to mom.

The next day, Lisa was home, bustling through her daily chores. Somewhere between the laundry and the dishes, the doorbell cut through the hum, crisp and sudden. She wiped her hands, went to the foyer, and paused by the side window. Two men stood right outside, at their feet—a large crate.

Lisa pulled the door open. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes, we have a package here for a Lisa Simmons."

"That's me. Who’s this package from?"

"It doesn't say ma'am, I just need your signature right here." And he handed Lisa the clipboard for her to sign.

The delivery men hauled the package into the living room, prying apart the wooden crate with crowbars. Inside stood something substantial, wrapped in glossy paper and tied with an oversized bow. Lisa noticed a small envelope taped to the wrapping paper, her name written in her son's unmistakable handwriting, followed by "Happy Birthday, Love Ryan."

Lisa couldn't believe her son had gone through all this trouble for her birthday present. But she was giggling to herself with excitement about what it might be. Lisa considered opening it early but decided against it; if her son had put this much into it, she had to wait and let him see her surprised look.

Ryan showed up at home an hour later; he was exhausted from work. The regular lady who taught the fitness class had called in sick, and Ryan had to step in and teach her routine. Now all he wanted to do was take a shower and crash.

Lisa ran up to her son and gave him a big hug. Ryan had to do a double-take; his mom hadn't done this in years.

"Thank you, honey, for the present. It arrived a while ago."

"Listen, Mom, don't get too excited over this, I'm not even sure if you're going to like it or not."

"Of course I'm going to like it. You got it for me." Lisa said as she kissed him on the cheek.

Ryan now hoped she did like it, after seeing how excited she was.

"Ryan, why don't I open it now? I know my birthday is two days away, but this box is taking up so much of the living room."

Ryan just wanted to get into that hot shower he'd been hoping for and relax and do nothing for the rest of the evening. If opening that box would have gotten him there faster, he had no problem with it.

"Yeah, Mom, that sounds like a good idea."

Lisa hurried over to the box and began peeling the paper off it. Finding a corner of the cardboard, she pulled a side off.

Lisa didn't know what to think. This big, gold-looking glass was reflecting back at her. It had been years since she'd seen one. Her mother used to have one in her bedroom, and she would use it to see how she looked in her clothes, making adjustments as she twirled and checked out her figure.

"So, Mom, what do you think?"

"Ryan, I just love it. Please help me carry it up to my bedroom."

Ryan grabbed an end and they made their way up the stairs to Lisa's room and set it in the corner between the two windows.

Lisa stood back and checked out her own reflection in the looking glass.

Lisa ran her fingers along the ornate gold frame, her eyes wide with delight. "Ryan, this is absolutely gorgeous! How did you even know I've always wanted an antique mirror like this?"

Ryan shrugged, trying to seem casual. "I found this little antique place downtown—kind of hidden, you know? The owner practically insisted you'd love it."

Lisa's eyes sparkled with delight. "Next time you're downtown, tell that shop owner I love it, will you?"

Ryan nodded. "I'll let him know. Listen, I'm pretty beat from covering that fitness class today. Mind if I hit the shower?"

Lisa's fingers trailed along the gilded frame. "Go ahead, honey. I'm just going to stand here a bit longer and take in every detail of this beautiful thing."

Ryan left his mother with her new gift and headed to the bathroom. He peeled off his sweat-soaked clothes from the fitness class and stepped under the shower spray, letting out a long sigh as the hot water melted away the tension in his shoulders and back.

Alone with the mirror, Lisa couldn't stop looking at it. She gripped the ornate frame with both hands, tilting it forward and back until she found the perfect angle to see herself from head to toe.

Lisa admired her reflection in the antique glass, turning slightly to see how the light caught her profile. A flicker of movement behind her caught her eye—something on the bed. She whirled around, heart suddenly racing, but found only rumpled sheets.

I must be seeing things, she thought, returning her attention to the mirror. There it was again—not a trick of light this time, but distinct figures. She shifted position, angling herself away from the center of the glass. The mirror revealed what her direct vision couldn't: a woman, perhaps forty years old, and a young man no older than twenty-five, sitting close together on her bed, engaged in intimate conversation. Lisa's skin prickled with goosebumps as she stared, transfixed by these phantom visitors who existed only in the mirror's gilded frame.

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled Lisa's attention from the mirror. When she looked back, the figures had vanished without a trace. Her knees suddenly weak, she sank onto her bed, only to leap back up with a gasp when she realized she'd sat in the exact spot where the phantom couple had appeared.

"Just exhaustion playing tricks," she whispered to herself, pressing her palms against her flushed cheeks. Shaking her head to clear the unsettling images, Lisa hurried downstairs to lose herself in the mindless rhythm of her remaining chores.

Clean from his shower, Ryan pulled on sweats and went downstairs. Hunger gnawed at him. He found leftover spaghetti, microwaved it, and waited for his mother to finish vacuuming. When the noise stopped, he grabbed his plate and headed for the TV.

Lisa's eyes narrowed at the steaming plate in Ryan's hand. "And where do you think you’re going with that dish in your hand?"

"I was heading into the living room to catch some TV."

Lisa crossed her arms and exhaled sharply. Twenty minutes with the vacuum, and now he'd drop pasta on her clean carpet. She opened her mouth, then stopped—the mirror upstairs. His gift. Her irritation melted. Just this once.

"Please just make sure you keep the room tidy for me. I just cleaned in there."

"No problem, Mom, I'll even wash the plate when I'm done for you."

"Thank you, sweetie."

Lisa blinked twice, wondering if she'd heard correctly. Ryan volunteering to clean something? Her limbs felt heavy, the combination of her shift at the insurance office and the evening's housework catching up with her all at once. She tucked the vacuum into the hall closet, flipped off the kitchen and entryway lights, and paused at the living room doorway.

"I'm done in for the night," she called over the television noise. "Can you lock up and hit the lights when you're finished?"

"Sure thing, Mom. Good night."

Lisa's fingers traced the doorframe as she lingered there a moment longer. "Sweet dreams, Ryan. That mirror..." She paused, her voice softening. "It's perfect."

Ryan's lips curved into a half-smile as he turned his attention back to the television. "That's what I was hoping for," he said, his voice barely audible over the drone of commercials.

Upstairs, Lisa stripped and tossed her work clothes into the hamper. From her squeaky third drawer, she chose the silky pink slip that barely covered anything. Leaving only her white panties on underneath, she slid between the sheets and clicked off the lamp.

The soft pillow cradled her head as the phantom couple from the mirror's depths lingered in her mind, refusing to dissolve into the darkness of her bedroom.

Lisa's gaze drifted toward the mirror. From where she lay, it captured her full reflection against the bedsheets, her pink slip riding high on her thighs. She almost laughed at herself for imagining phantom figures in its ancient glass just moments earlier.

Exhaustion must be playing tricks on my mind, she reasoned, rolling onto her side and letting her heavy eyelids fall shut as sleep quickly claimed her.

Ryan washed his plate, checked the locks, and killed the lights before trudging upstairs. He stripped to his briefs and fell onto his bed, asleep almost instantly.

As the night progressed, Lisa began to dream, foggy in her mind at first, but gradually it solidified around her. She found herself transported into the mirror's world, watching the same couple she'd glimpsed earlier. They sat on what looked like her bed, but wasn't—not quite. Their lips moved, and this time, unlike before, their voices reached her. The indistinct murmurs she'd seen earlier became clear words as Lisa hovered there, an invisible witness to their private conversation.

The young man's voice broke with emotion. "Mother, why must this be forbidden? My heart is full of nothing...