The Face in the Mirror                                                                     Theresa Kremer

           

              I stared at my reflection. It blinked.

            “Stop doing that. Someone’s going to notice, and it’s going to get weird.” It was difficult enough to maintain my image without said image acting up.

            “And if things get weird, I’ll just have to smash every mirror I own and neither of us want that, do we?”

            My reflection shrugged even as my shoulders stayed still, and that nervous look was entirely their own. I leaned in till my breath fogged the mirror, my reflection obliged to follow.

            “Broken glass won’t kill you, but I know for a fact that it’ll hurt.” The nervous look had shifted to genuine fear and - though I couldn’t see it - I felt a smirk tug at my lips. “Like getting cut with a knife with every shard. And I’m willing to break every piece of glass I can find until you behave.”

            We leaned back out in tandem.

            “Or maybe it’d be worse if I never went near mirrors at all? Do you even exist without me?” My reflection didn’t respond, they just mimicked my posture, my expectant stare. Good.

            We nodded our heads and switched the lights off, both stony-faced. Honestly, they’d been so difficult ever since we switched places. I flashed a smile at the darkened mirror. My reflection was a second slow in matching it, but it was okay for now; they were still learning to fall in line.