"Say it. Say it. For fuck's sake, just say it."

You don't actually have to say it. You can just tell her that you said it. You're an actress, aren't you?

"I can't lie to that woman. She sees through it, but she doesn't scold me and then I just feel worse."

Suit yourself. Just get this over with, then.

Sarah gripped the edges of the bathroom sink, her eyes passing over her roommate's spartan collection of toiletries and her own messy pile of stage makeup and costume jewelry. Julia had been not-so-subtly suggesting that she organize that stuff for weeks. Now would be a good time to—

You're stalling.

Sarah groaned and forced herself to look in the mirror. Her hostile face stared back at her, cheeks slightly flushed, hair pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands hanging loosely around her cheeks, chest heaving somewhat dramatically in a much-loved tank top that probably should have been thrown away years ago.

"Right. Here we go."

She stood up straight and took a deep breath, then released it, forming her face into what she hoped was a good approximation of sincerity. She forced her lightly-rouged lips into a smile and tried to make the smile meet her eyes.

"I really…want to learn…to love you." She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "Sarah."

She felt bile come up into her throat. She spat into the sink and turned own the faucet, rinsing her mouth out vigorously. She looked in the mirror again and saw a face completely suffused with disgust, all traces of sincerity gone.

"This is utter bullshit."

Yes, but it's bullshit that will get you a bit of extra cash from Dad and Karen every month to help cover the rent that waitressing doesn't cover, so you're going to grit your teeth and bear it, you spoiled child.

"I don't actually have to do the "homework," I could just—"

We've already determined that that doesn't work. Acting is one thing, outright lying is another. Say the damn words. Two more times, like the book says.

"Hell, at least if I lied to Karen and her damn therapist I'd be doing some real acting, not just auditioning for Corpse #3 on the crime drama of the week or rehearsing for pretentious basement plays that no one watches."

Whine, whine, whine. Two more times.

Sarah slammed her fist against the sink, knocking a rhinestone broach onto the floor. She stared at herself with wild eyes and took a deep breath.

"I really want to learn to love you Sarah I really want to learn to love you Sarah. Fine, we're fucking done. Happy?"

She reached out and pressed her palm against the glass, still breathing heavily. It wasn't just that this was annoying and New Agey and everything she had ever rolled her eyes at, it was somehow deeply, deeply sad to be alone in an apartment talking to her own reflection. She wasn't so much angry at the words as the mirror that reflected only her, only the mundane world of her apartment, where once it had reflected…other things.

Sarah shook her head, palm still pressed against the mirror as though trying to reach for something through the glass. Stop it. That way lies madness, and you know it.

But she couldn't help it. Images flashed across her mind of happier times, of what she used to see in the mirror, of that connection to a world that she never knew how much she would miss until it just vanished one day, and all her mirrors became useless glass.

"It's not f—"

Shut up. Shut. Up.

Sarah groaned. "Fine, put all that in the damn journal you're supposed to write. Minus the part about mirrors being a gateway to other worlds, of c—"

She gasped and pulled her hand back from the mirror as if stung. She stared at her palm, then back at the mirror, which reflected only the bathroom and her own face, slightly pale.

For a split second, the mirror had felt warm.

Naturally Julia chose exactly that moment to come home. Sarah wiped her palm on her jeans and busied herself with the pile of make-up and costume jewelry, grabbing a few sheets of toilet paper to scrub away weeks' worth of grime for good measure.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Julia looked, as always, perfectly put together. Her hair was cut and styled where Sarah's was messy, her clothes pressed where Sarah's were wrinkled, her expression calm and in control where Sarah always felt wrong-footed. She smiled a smile that anyone else would have taken for genuine when she saw that Sarah was cleaning.

"Thanks for doing that." Translation: you are on the cusp of homelessness. Don't push your luck.

"Yeah, you know." Sarah forced herself to laugh. "Long time coming, I'm sorry."

"No worries, I know you're busy." Julia glided away from the bathroom door toward a bedroom that Sarah knew did not have a week's worth of dirty clothes on the bed and a stack of unopened mail on the bureau. "Gonna clean up a little and meet Roger for dinner."

Roger. Jesus, even your boyfriend sounds like an 80s movie villain.

Sarah made some noise of acknowledgment, listened to the sound of Julia's door closing, and quickly pressed her palm to the bathroom mirror again. As she expected, it was cold.

But it wasn't before. It really wasn't. You're sober, you didn't imagine it.

Sarah sighed. Maybe they were just teasing her. Being surrounded by goblins all the time had to make you mischievous, right?

But they were never like that before. They were kind. They listened.

Yeah, and then one day they were just…gone.

She felt a tightness in her throat that hadn't been there in a while and shook her head as if it were something that could be dislodged. No point in this, no point at all.

"Right. Talking-into-the-mirror bullshit is done for the day, write down how transformative it's been and then get back to something more meaningful, like counting ceiling cracks."

Or finish cleaning this sink so that your surely-has-homicide-on-her-mind roommate doesn't murder you in your sleep.

Sometimes procrastination made a lot of sense. Sarah rolled her eyes and went to get a plastic bag and a bottle of disinfectant.

Within the mirror, something chuckled.