The Reflection

With a shudder Regina withdrew her hand leaving ripples like a stone dropped in a dawn pond.

Shimmering softly, her soggy reflection pulsing and breathing, the surface quivered. Without warning it snapped. Tranquil now, but transformed. Regina’s gnarled hair and disheveled clothes still felt wet. In the image her hair, her lips, her eyes, shone. Regina touched a finger to her cheek, and the girl in the reflection touched her rosy cheek.

She wore a stunning evening gown, black silk lifting gently in a breeze. The ruined cathedral was whole, the pews stood dry, candles lit, a sunbeam streamed through unbroken stained glass, showing a scene Regina could not quite make out.

Regina’s hand reached for the mirror again, almost of its own volition, as if she were the reflection. Reaching the mirror, the surface bowed with an uncanny warmth.

Thunder clapped, she felt herself look away. When her gaze returned, eyes locked, she saw a single tear. Regina stood motionless while the reflection wiped it away.

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