Mira

In the dimly lit attic studio, surrounded by a forest of unfinished canvases, Mira stands at her easel, her reflection eerily out of sync with her movements. The mirror beside her glimmers with a life of its own, not just an object but an entity – a man, seemingly carved from shadows and obsidian, watches her with unblinking eyes. Her black eyes meet his, an unnerving bond forming between them as her brush strokes hesitate. A charged silence hangs in the air, punctuated by the distant rhythm of her heart.