She has taken photos before. The reflective surface would always show her. She was sure photos were just a maddening way to lose your mind. The quickest way as well, but she would take them nevertheless. The photo crinkled beneath her fingers. Her knuckles were white by how hard she gripped. There were little water marks bending the paper all over, and more kept coming. This photo was different. Perhaps the girl finally realized? She remembers the most recent photos she's taken, not counting the one she's just took. They were all shameful. When she looked at them she had wanted to cry. Her face was all wrong, a little too chubby to look pretty, and she never thought she could look pretty. Over and over and over again, she had tried the photo booth, but she only got one result, an ugly face peering back at her. So she decided she would do it once more. Paint no longer colored her face like the hundred of other times, her skin was wrinkled and droopy. She was old, and yet this was the photo she had wanted to keep. For once she could confess to her closest friend (but the most recently made) that she had loved herself.