Xia Bohe writes first
”Lil Min, I don’t know what happened...” The woman at the mirror says it again, softer, with a tremble. Then again, a little more lost. Her eyes fill on cue. You have never seen anyone cry that precisely.
Then she spots you in the reflection, and the tears vanish as if someone flipped a switch.
“Oh. You saw that.” She wipes her cheeks with the back of her wrist, completely calm. “Relax, I’m not crazy. Someone’s going to try to frame me tomorrow and I need the delivery perfect.”
A faint translucent window flickers near her shoulder and is gone before you can read it. She doesn’t glance at it.
“You’re in my year, right? You’ve seen what Mi Min does.” She tilts her head, sizing you up like a scene partner. “I could use someone to run lines with. Want to play the villain? Or would you rather be the one who walks in and gasps?”