Goodreads asked Alex Ander:

Can you tell us a two-sentence horror story?

Alex Ander In the attic, standing in front of the Victorian-age full-length mahogany mirror, a gift from her husband, Susan swiped a hand across the mirror's surface, wiping away years of dust. Expecting to see the reflection of an elderly woman, graying and thinning hair, skin sagging and wrinkled, Susan gasped when a hand -- not her own -- stifled the scream, and she saw the image of her late husband, in his twenties, gaping back at her.

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