VI. Historics/The Beginner's Dream

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I woke up the next morning with a blank slate for a mind. I rubbed my eyes and groaned as I did every morning, I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom to wash up. I always passed my closet door mirror on the way, though. And...I did. And there was a reflection there.

Slowly backing up a step, I met my own eyes in the mirror. With the events of yesterday being recalled I felt distanced, like I was spiraling into madness yet again. But I flew a hand up to my hair to tuck a turquoise piece back in my bun, and to my surprise, my reflection did the same. I dropped my arm, wiggling my fingers. I cocked my head to side; my reflection did the same. And I felt a smile come on, but kept staring to make sure and hope. It was a dream. It was all a dream.

Suddenly my reflection extended monochromatic wings and both our slight smiles fell. Afton shrugged and slowly closed her wings. "I'm sorry," she mouthed.

I smiled again anyway, despite feeling like I had been catapulted back to never-know land. "That's okay," I mouthed back, taking a seat and rubbing my face. I didn't really know what else to say, or what tone to even say it in. Part of me was even happy that my life had this new variable of alternate dimensions. Variety, you know. A game changer. And Afton was a nice girl when I met her. She probably didn't ask for any of this either.

A muffled "Hey!" and knock on the mirror startled me, Afton crouched down and trying to grab my attention. She smiled and opened her mouth wide, talking loudly, but I could only hear a muffled hum similar to that of talking underwater. I shook my head and pointed to my ear, mouthing, "No sound."

Afton sat back on her butt and squeezed her knees up to her chest, looking about unsurely. I couldn't help but smile at her cuteness, although it was still weird to see myself do something different in a mirror. I don't think I'd ever be able to get used to the whole thing if I was to live with it my whole life.

She suddenly jumped up and disappeared from the frame, coming back into view with a pen and piece of notebook paper in her lap. I scooted forward as she wrote, and then held up the sign: I thought it was fake.

The message took some time to read, since I was seeing all the letters backwards. Afton's brow furrowed at my concentration and then she slapped a hand on her forehead in realization. I laughed and waved her off, looking around and grabbing my own notebook and paper to write to her from the nearby dresser. I wrote back, Me too.

She smiled, dimples and all, and flipped to a new page to write. Can you come over?

Puzzled as to why I didn't think of the solution sooner, I set my notebook down and pressed a hand to the glass, finding it to be glass again. Disappointment rushed through me as I sat back. I didn't expect it to. But I realized Afton would've made for an interesting friend, and now I could never talk to her again; a little sliver of hope resided in the bottom of the soul can that I'd be able to cross over eventually. Afton tried to push through too, but neither of us had luck.

I scrawled down, I don't know why it won't work.

She smiled and wrote back, That's okay.

My heart sunk again as I wrote the next message. I'm not supposed to talk to you anyway.

Afton's mouth twisted up sadly and her shoulders slumped as she wrote. That's dumb. She took another moment to flip a page and write down another message to decipher: Who told you to?

Ben and Lana, I responded. They came to visit me yesterday. Unwelcomed.

Her mouth turned up the slightest as she wrote. Oh, fuck them.

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