The girl in the mirror is afraid. That's what her eyes tell me, anyway, as I watch them through my own. Paranoid, maybe. Anxious. Hunched over a computer, fingers making clacking noises on the keys, chipped blue nail paint and a shiny silver good-luck ring. Even I can't find any expression on her face, but that's maybe because she isn't feeling anything particularly. She's actually thinking about hair dye. But somewhere near the far back of her eyes, where the blue fades into grey, there's still that touch of fear. Further still, behind the mirror, in her mind, she's counting. Making sure no movement hits a bad number, keeping track of steps and words and conversations. Shuffling through facts and memories, years and statistics, gears turning and wheels spinning. And of course, whether or not she should dye her hair. But would that bright red she likes look good with her skin tone? The girl in the mirror is afraid.