You’re so beautiful and underweight, under her breath looking through her own reflection; a gaunt reflection, even for a reflection. It stood there, looking back, in a thin red bra and low hanging faded bluejeans with the top button splayed. Delicately, without any purpose at all, left shoulder strap and elastic clasp undone, the reflection let the bra fall to the floor, as two breasts held on tight to her chest. It went on to undo the last three of four buttons on the denim and tugged roughly about the thighs. Calm arched feet slid out, out of reflections’ view. She stood naked for a second, and so did the reflection, eying one another’s simplicity. Symmetry. Two eyes, perfect ears, two breasts, perfect thighs, the rest neither could see, as the sink and counter blocked all view. The faucet had been on the entire time, and the shower head was spitting the hottest drops it could muster. Reflection realized the steam, then she. Looked left to the shower, drape wide open; wet and hot and foggy just 5 feet away, glancing once more at reflection, silently blinks three times, moves toward water, reflection dies. Left foot scalded, blushing red. She feels her whole body burn. Sits down, knees at breasts, hands criss-crossed over face, eyes peek through at the fake-marble wall that houses the plumbing. Can’t tell if tears or water are coming out of her eyes. Either would burn. She rocks forward. Back. It’s too hot. Some blisters. She’s taken too many pills. Reflection wants to see her.