I’ve been avoiding my reflection for years, ever since it started moving on its own. I dodge every mirror I see, windows at night, I even face the wall as I brush my teeth.
I open my eyes. The dim light barely illuminates my surroundings, but I can vaguely make out the corridor I am in. I don't know how I got here, the last thing I remember was how I was on my way to deliver food to a customer.
It was a Thursday morning while I did my usual routine. Go upstairs, Wake up Thomas, my good friend, then go back down the stairs super fast and race to the kitchen.
I didn’t see Buck until the afternoon that Sunday, after Dr. Martinez x-rayed me for the second time that weekend and proclaimed my bones completely healed. “If only we could bottle that ability,” she sighed, somewhat wistfully.
She dreamed of someone who couldn’t be placed, someone she couldn’t quite grasp. She dreamed of an old bar on a wet street in a place where rain couldn’t even wash away the grime.
It was a lovely day out, the clouds as shimmery as a pearl. My friend and I were walking on the sidewalk as we always do after school, we were chatting, laughing, giggling like we always do.