I can’t stop looking at my reflection, and I don’t want to.

I want to stare into this glorious crystal— I want it to share its reversed truths with me. I want it to tell me absolutely everything I’ve missed in the past eighteen years.

Oh, but _would_ that a mirror could remember.

But it doesn’t, and the images reflected on them are not trapped within their frame, and the sight is gone faster than your breath takes to clear from the crystal.

The past is of no consequence to me, though. In a way, neither does the future, really.

All that matters is the _now_, encompassed by the edges of the crystal in front of me.

And what stares back— well…

Have you ever tried to describe a color to a blind person? How do you ask someone to imagine something they can’t conceive? An entire new category of adjective they can’t even fathom how to name?

Quietly, I cock my head to the side and study this beautiful reflection.

I know my eyes are green because Rebecca would always pride herself in them, and I must say, she was quite right to be. Green is a lovely color, and it contrasts starkly with the spilled red on my shirt.

It’s a shame Rebecca won’t know she was right— her eyes were lovely—

But they look better on me.