Taking a step back, I turn to face the mirrors. I track Mercy even here. Although it’s just her reflection, I can’t look away, watching her step under the spray while she unpins her hair, dark strands falling down her shoulders one by one, her family sigil tattoo brazenly visible on her back. It’s only when I manage to tear my gaze away from her and find myself staring back in the mirror that I realize the implications of what I just did. I sought her reflection before even thinking to seek mine.
