The Zombie in the Mirror

Maya's **iphone** glowed at 2:47 AM, another night sacrificed to the infinite scroll. She felt like a **zombie** — pale, hollowed out, moving through school on autopilot while her real life happened somewhere behind blue light filters and curated feeds.

"You look dead," said Leo, her oldest **friend**, sliding into the cafeteria seat beside her. "Rough night?"

Maya pushed spinach around her tray with her fork. "Rough life."

He'd never understand. Leo still posted unfiltered photos and left his notifications on. Meanwhile, Maya was trapped in the sphinx's riddle of modern existence: scroll until your thumb aches, close the app, open it again, repeat until dawn.

The **sphinx** had been watching her for weeks now — not a literal creature, but that hollow feeling in her chest, the question that kept her awake: Who was she when nobody was watching?

"Come with me," Leo said suddenly. "Skip sixth. Let's go somewhere."

"Where?"

"Anywhere that doesn't have WiFi."

They ended up behind the abandoned gym, sharing a stolen cigarette Maya didn't actually inhale. The spinach from lunch was still stuck between her teeth. She should've been mortified, but something about the messiness felt real.

"My therapist says I'm addicted to validation," Leo admitted, staring at his phone like it might bite him. "I posted this selfie, and I've checked the likes forty-seven times since lunch."

Maya laughed, and it felt like the first genuine sound she'd made in months. "Welcome to the zombie apocalypse, Leo. We've all been eaten."

He dropped his phone in the grass. "Maybe we could stop. Like, actually stop. Not for an hour. For real."

Maya looked at her own device, dark screen reflecting a face she barely recognized. The sphinx's rircle echoed: What are you without your notifications?

"I dare you," she said.

"You first."

She powered it off. The silence that followed wasn't empty — it was heavy with possibility, terrifying and electric all at once. The zombie in the mirror blinked, slowly waking up.

"So," Maya said, finally noticing the spinach. "What do normal people do for seven hours?"

Leo grinned. "I hear they talk. And like, look at stuff. With their eyes."

"Weird," she said. "Let's try it."