The Window

Pre-Evening 3 of the Moonlight Festival.

Standing in the glow of a streetlamp, I caught my reflection in a cracked storefront window. The face staring back at me was mine… but not mine. My skin looked smoother, my eyes brighter, my posture straighter. Even my once-frazzled hair now fell into neat, clean lines. I looked… angelic.

But the mirror wasn't reflecting me... it was projecting something beyond me, a version of myself I didn't quite recognize.

How could I walk into Rockaburger City looking like this and talk to Boris? He might not recognize me. But what if he did...? What if the little things, the awkward way I stumble over my words, or how I can't keep eye contact for long, tick him off? My chest tightened at the thought.

The pit in my stomach grew. There was no turning back now. If I wanted answers, I had to face Boris. But as I turned toward the restaurant, my reflection caught my eye again. The girl in the window… she doesn't really look that much like me, does she? She looks more like my mom... Confident... Not scared of what the world might do to her... I was always told I look more like my father, so this new image is not unwelcomed...

I stood there for a moment longer, staring; not just at her, but through her. I saw it then, tucked away in the shop's display: a two-piece outfit.

The navy-blue fabric shimmered faintly under the dim light. Navy hearts adorned the inner sleeves, and a soft blue heart sat dead center on the chest. Over that heart, there was an 'X,' just like in my dreams.

My eyes flicked downward to the small price tag in the corner: 15 seeds. Heavily discounted.

I frowned, realizing why—it wasn't just a sale. The owner probably didn't notice what the 'X' symbolized around here. Death. A comical yet dangerous oversight, especially in this part of town.

But somehow, that made it perfect. It suited me.

I hesitated but reached out, brushing my fingers over the soft fabric. And that's when I spotted it: a hat resting on the mannequin's head. It was tan, with a simple, folded brim—just like the one Korra always wore.

Sliding it on felt… right.

I pulled the pieces together and stepped back into the night, clutching my small bag. The girl in the window had become me now; or maybe I had become her.