My hand digs deep into my bag, fingers grasping for my pocket mirror. The tips of my nails click against a lipstick, a notebook, and my wallet. But no mirror. Panic wells up and spread through my veins like poison, clouding my mind from any reasonable thoughts. My heart beats harder in my chest as my hand searches more frantically through the mess of my bag. It has to be in there somewhere, it just has to be. I never go anywhere without that mirror. The distinct memory of putting the mirror in the bag is quickly deteriorating as something close to fear surges through me.
 I stop abruptly in the middle of the busy street. An old man bumps into my shoulder and turns around to glare at me as he passes, grumbling about rude and disrespectful teenagers. It goes unnoticed though, as I drop to the ground so I’m able to properly search through all the receipts and rubble at the bottom of my bag. I remove my wallet and the scratched, grey edges of the mirror are exposed from underneath an umbrella I stuffed in the bag as I walked out the door that morning. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as my fingers close around the mirror and I put it in my pocket. I stand up in the busy street again, my head clear of the previous jumble of thoughts, and I lift the bag onto my shoulder again.
 None of the people on the street around me would even have the faintest idea, and I think about how nice it must be to be so oblivious to the darker sides of the world around them. I smirk to myself as I veer down a shaded alleyway, away from the busy street. A quick glance behind me reveals that nobody noticed me walking away and that nobody had decided to follow. Paranoia is something that had come along with the mirror, one of the many consequences I’m suffering. I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world though, not even for Damian.
 When I feel safely tucked away from any prying eyes, I fish the mirror out of my pocket. The fact that so much power and darkness can be hidden inside such a mundane and innocent object is still something that baffles me. The mirror itself is quite normal and I would never suspect it of anything more than having a cracked glass inside if I didn’t already know the secret behind it. But I do know about it and I can never go back to being oblivious ever again.
 The silver colour it must’ve had when it was new is faded to a pale yellow-tinted grey, the shine rubbed away after years of regular use. It’s scratched and cracked in some places, and the edges are almost completely rounded.
 My nail wedges under the split in the mirror to open it, and my own reflection stares back at me, the lower part of the mirror magnifying my face slightly.
      “Show me,” I whisper to the mirror, my voice barely audible over the police siren blaring past on the street. My reflection in the mirror vanishes and is replaced by a café, but more specific; a man. Damian. His black leather jacket slung over his chair and he runs a hand through his dark hair. The coffee shop is packed with people, but he’s the only one in colour, vibrant in the muddle of greys and browns surrounding him.
 Damian is sitting at a table by the window, overlooking the street outside, completely unaware of being watched. He lifts his steaming cup of coffee to his lips to take a sip, before turning towards the girl he’s sitting with. I didn’t even notice the girl until he turned to her, completely absorbed in him. Jealousy rages in my blood as he puts his arm around the girl and she sends him a warm smile before snuggling into him. My hands ball into fists as he places his lips against her head and kisses her hair. I can’t watch anymore and close the mirror so hard I think it might’ve cracked, but at this point, I couldn’t have cared less. Tears well up in my eyes and threaten to spill out over my cheeks, but I wipe them away. I’m not sure who I’m angrier with; him for moving on so fast after what happened, or myself for letting it hurt me.
 I would never regret the decision I made back then, but I wish I’d have known what kind of price I had to pay for my actions. They had proven to be way more extensive than I’d ever imagined.
 A tear finally rolls down my cheeks and this time I don’t bother to wipe it away. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this, and I take a deep breath to collect my thoughts before opening the mirror again.
      “Show me,” I say again, almost pleading the mirror to show me another image than Damian sitting with the girl again. The same picture reappears in the mirror; Damian and the girl deep in conversation while watching the people mill about like ants in the street outside.
      “No!” Anger flares up again and my voice echoes in the empty alley. I throw the mirror into the brick wall opposite of me and the sudden noise makes a street cat take flight from a dumpster. Glass and plastic shatters everywhere and rains down on the pavement. A sob shakes my body and I lean into the wall behind me, sliding down to the ground. I pull my knees to my chest and hides my face in my arms as I cry.
 My sobs are silent, but I’m too consumed by grief to notice the rustle of air beside me.
      “All magic comes with a price,” a mocking voice says before there’s another rustle of air. The voice makes my head snap up from my arms, but my vision is too blurred by my tears, making it impossible to distinguish anyone in the alleyway. I move to get up when my eyes fall on the white flower placed beside me, a pristine anemone. Underneath the flower is the mirror, whole like it wasn’t just thrown into a brick wall.
