Her hair is black. I stare into the mirror and straighten the folds of my gown.
Her hair is white. I pick at my sleeve. "It doesn't suit you."
"I'm expected to wear blue for the ceremony." They must see me as a strong future commander.
"I wish…" My husky voice cracks. Those words never work.
"You can't come."
"Don't you need me?" I twist a strand of my hair and curl deeper into the glass. "No, of course not."
"I have to establish myself." Not as a girl who talks to mirrors. "Then you can come."
My dark hair falls over my face. I'm only good if I bring something to the table.
Maybe I'm tired of serving others' convenience.
I lay one hand against the glass. "Don't worry. I won't forget you."
But she already has.
I peel my hand from the cool glass and leave.
I slip silently from the glass.
Hello there! Rachel again, with some of the short stories and flash fiction I've written. Enjoy!