He rolls his eyes but lets me leave.
I set the jar on top of the dresser in front of the mirror before I wander the room in search of my hair tie. I finally locate it on the sink in the bathroom. Flipping my damp hair upside down, I gather it together to tie it up into a messy knot on the top of my head when I realize, I can’t do it with only one hand. I flip backupright with a grumble, shoving my hair back and behind my ears to the best of my ability.
Settling in at the dresser, I retrieve the glass jar and take a small scoop of the paste and flick my eyes to the mirror to locate the cuts and all thoughts leave me on a choked inhale.
Distantly, I hear the sound of shattering glass.
A curse.
Heavy, rushed footsteps.
But my eyes don’t leave the sight in the mirror.
