Luck on the road.

It was the worst blizzard he had seen in years.

At a stop sign, a car sat parked with its emergency lights flashing. A man stood beside it, waving to be picked up.

He thought, what the hell, and pulled over.

“Where are you headed?” he asked as the man climbed in.

“Just up ahead, to the next town. Thanks for the lift,” the man said, settling into the seat as the warmth hit him.

“Crazy weather. Car stop working?” he asked, easing back onto the road.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it. It just won’t start. Mind if I smoke? I’ll crack the window a bit,” the man said, pulling a cigarette from his jacket.

“Go for it,” he said, opening his own window slightly.

The man held the cigarette half in his mouth, trying to light it.

“Weird question,” he said casually, “but if you could make a wish that would come true—what would it be?”

He thought for a moment.

“Hm… probably to make everything I wish become reality. You know—loophole the thing. Make me the machine that grants the wishes.”

The man smiled as he inhaled. The tip of the cigarette burned bright, and the brown in his eyes caught a tinge of red.

“All your wishes, huh?” the man said, exhaling. The brown was almost completely red now. “Never heard that one before. But I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

He chuckled, deep and low, the cigarette still hanging from his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said, half-laughing, “but you know what they say—your tongue will be your whip.”

He turned to look at the man.

The seat was empty.

The window was up. There was no smoke. No smell.

A blaring horn and the headlights of an oncoming truck snapped him back. He swerved, tires sliding on the snow, barely correcting in time.

The next day, he stepped out onto the porch to have a cigarette.

He sat on the steps. The moment he lit it, a hand took it straight from his mouth.

It was the man.

“So,” the man said, taking a drag, “anything you wish for—you’ll have.”

His grandmother’s voice rang in his head: Never pick up a stranger at a crossroads.

Looking at the man smoking his cigarette, he understood.

He paused.

Then said, “I want it all.”

The man’s smile stretched slowly, impossibly wide.

“I knew you’d be fun,” he said, laughing.

He raised his index and middle finger like a gun, cocked his thumb, and made a clicking sound with his mouth.

From the ground to the sky, a mirror erupted into existence—perfect, endless.

“Our deal’s been made,” the man said. “You’ll have it all.”

Hope flared—until the man continued.

“You’ll have it all if you can find the door. Everything you want is on the other side of this mirror.”

He laughed harder.

“It’s happening right now,” he said between breaths. “You’ll see it come to be.”

He stepped closer. In the mirror, he saw himself.

But when he moved, the reflection didn’t follow.

It only smiled.

“That’s the best part!” the man shouted, wiping tears from his eyes. “You won’t control that reflection at all. Here, you’ll step on butterflies that become storms over there—and you won’t know.”

He paused, gasping for air.

“But don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “You won’t get the bliss of ignorance. You’ll know.”

He doubled over laughing.

“It’ll follow you everywhere—music, the car, the gym. You’ll hear it so often you won’t know when it’s real and when it isn’t.”

He stomped his foot, hitting his knee with his fist.

“And the best part? They’ll hate you. First just in general. Then—and this is my favorite—they’ll hate you because you’re not there.”

He laughed harder.

“You’ll trick them at first. They’ll think you’re brave. Wise. But then you’re fucked—because you never found the door.”

He leaned in, finally calming.

“You’ll have it all. Right there. Behind the glass.”

He sat frozen on the step.

“Doesn’t that break some kind of rule?” he asked quietly. “I won’t really have it.”

“Oh no,” the man said cheerfully. “It’s yours. Just go in and grab it.”

He burst into laughter again.

“Oh—and you’ll be the only one who knows about it without seeing it. So on this side, you’ll be insane. On the other side, insane. And if people from this side hear about the other—no one will talk to you.”

He wiped his eyes.

“And when you ask people you think have been there? They’ll lie.”

He flicked the cigarette butt at him.

“But you’ll never know for sure.”

The man vanished.

The cigarette butt bounced off his jacket and landed on the porch.

He reached for another cigarette.

The pack was empty.

So he sat there, staring at the sky, feeling so much he couldn’t move at all.