I stepped back, then forward again, as my heel brushed against something cold. It was an upright sheet of glass, and on the other side of it were the remains of my 'reflection' as well as a number of people, among whom stood the individual I had been interacting with. Near as I could tell, I had entered the mirror, which must serve as a containment units of sorts. I could not decide which story I had intruded upon - Alice in Wonderland or A Wrinkle in Time. I could remember neither of the oral traditions now; my only thought was of escape, before morning broke.