My mother would always tell me stories about people who could walk through mirrors and about how great they were and of the marvelous things that they could do. I would always wonder how she knew, she told the stories as if she was there when they happened. Then she would go and look at the mirror for a little while, she was always kind of sad after she looked at the mirror.
After a while she just stopped telling me the stories, no matter how much I begged her. She said that they always made her sad, so I stopped asking.
