The rain pounds against the windowpane, distorting the image of a young woman. Raindrops sliding down the glass appear as tears running wildly down her cheeks. A hand presses against the window, the reflection following. Two young women, one flesh and blood, the other insubstantial bits of color, stare into the darkness with sad eyes.
Behind the sadness, there is fear. There are secrets.
The young woman’s head dips. Blond, wispy hair falls forward, clinging to damp cheeks. Tears not born of the rain slip down her pale face. There is a tremble running through her fingers as she peels her hand from the glass and moves toward a curious looking stone perched on the window sill. Her fingers hover over the stone, but do not touch. Her fingers clench, anger and frustration visible in her expression, yet the stone remains untouched.
Once more, the young woman’s hand reaches up to the window, pressing against its reflection. The sad eyes stare at one another. The anguish that passes between them borders on desperation. But the secret stays buried as the young woman stands and turns from the window. As she walks away, the reflection’s haunted eyes never waver, watching the young woman’s retreating form until she is left alone.