I reached out to wipe the steam off the mirror, greeted by the familiar cool glass. My reflection was nowhere to be found. I knocked on the glass and she came shambling into the bathroom. We were not dressed the same and it looked like she had gone though a battle. I guess she did really go into battle. I reached out my hand and touched the mirror, she reached back and our fingers connected. I could feel warmth. Blood trickled from a few scratches on her face I wiped my own and she mirrored my actions. We turned on the sink at the same time I splashed the cool water on my face, the towel I dried off with came away clean, her’s came away covered in blood and dirt.

She looked relieved. While we were in the mirror together she would have to do whatever I was doing. Sometimes she ran a little late, the world she lived in was different than mine. More dangerous. I couldn’t hear through the mirror but sometimes in the steam there would be notes.

She didn’t look exactly like me anymore either. She had a scar on her shoulder that I didn’t. She had more freckles than me too, in photographs I had maybe a couple, but in the mirror she had tons. I left the bathroom so she could clean up or go back to whatever she was doing before.

I made myself breakfast and sat at the table enjoying my boring life. Sometimes I would paste a note to the mirror so she could know what it was like on this side. The mirrors were the places our worlds connected, our world alters theirs so it matches. They have no will to move themselves while we are looking at each other. They fight so we can have a normal life. They keep the monsters away from the portals to our world. If they got through we would be in trouble.

I don’t know if they mind that we are living better. They live because we live, so I guess protecting what keeps you alive is a pretty good reason to fight.


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Writing short stories and flash pieces.

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