The invisible storefront

I dreamed I ran a shop that sold mirrors, and every morning I'd polish them until they showed the street perfectly. Then one day I looked in and the street was still there — cars, pigeons, the bakery — but no reflection of me, just the space where I should have been. I kept polishing, thinking it was a smudge, but the smudge was the point. Woke up and couldn't shake the feeling that someone had quietly decided my reflection wasn't worth keeping.