Epilogue

Many Years Afterwards

"Creek, creek!" The creaking of the floor increased with every step as a woman got closer to a room, whose door was slightly opened. Behind her was another set of feet, but these feet were bigger and louder. Careful not to break the crippling old door, it was pushed inwards, revealing the room within. The room looked like it was pulled right from the past; the typewriter was incredibly outdated, looking ancient. All of the metal interiors were rusty, but they were all very intact. As a matter of fact, everything looked like it had stayed the same for years, not a thing touched or stolen from. The truth is, it hasn't been touched in years; 80 years.

"Old Grandpa Casson's office!" The woman gasped in amazement, her voice was as smooth as the wind. "It's amazing this place has been preserved for 80 years! After the murders, most of the inhabitants of the town left, leaving the ones left behind to rob, and then quickly ditch."

"I guess this place was too modest for anyone to have any great interest in robbing," the man laughed. "I mean, they're right though. Look at this, even for the 1930s, this place looks ancient, amazing how a man can be so bland."

"Agree to disagree. This town wasn't near any popular destinations, so this place was deserted for years, preserved. I wonder if Mama ever saw this place; I'm not even sure Grandma had seen this place." She sighed.

"Grandma Angelica, who was too upset to come hereafter Grandpa died, stayed in New York with my mama. They had been living in New York for years, well after Grandma married the rich folk. After Grandma passed, Ma never came back, marrying Pa and giving birth to me; Alissa, Alissa West Ross." She explained, looking around the room with great interest. "So how are your parents and grandparents, Brian?"

"Oh, mine? They're not nearly as noteworthy as yours," Brian laughed. While chuckling, Alissa caught sight of something in the corner of her eye; near the typewriter, was a note. Slowly, she walked over to it and picked it up.

"What's that?" Brian questioned.

After looking over it a tad bit, she read it out loud, "Seeing things in the mirror, possibly going insane. Henry, astonishingly talkative and irrational." Along the note were more details and descriptions, until it reached the end. "Although the people in the mirror are fake, it gave me motivation."

She read it over and over until finally whispering, "Looks like Grandpa had a case of psychosis, while Henry possibly had ADHD."

Smiling widely, she took out a notebook, but before writing anything down, she saw what looked like a blur at the edge of her vision. Turning to take another look, nothing was there. Grinning even wider now, she printed a series of words before leaving the building. The parchment read, "Name: Alissa West Ross", "Age: 34", "Race: African American", "Occupation: NYPD Detective". "Seeing things in the mirror. Please preserve this building."