1. Determination

 

He sat at the table, hands folded around one in an apparently endless stream of cheap liqour bottles. A naked lightbulb – the spare room’s sole illumination – made the alcohol shine red through the tint of the glass. Red was the color of determination.

 

It was also the color of blood.

 

He considered the request; the other man could only watch. He was used to this. It did not matter.

 

At last, Vash spoke. “I’m not God.”

 

The reply was slow in coming, a bitter chuckle. Said softly, as if loud words could shatter the speaker:

 

“And I’m not a preist.”

 

 

2. Butterfly

 

The common cabbage butterfly comes in two colorations: Dark yellow and light.

 

It didn’t matter which was which, now. The mirror was broken; shards of reality lay scattered inside him, the pain and the sickness cloaking his soul.

 

The small insect struggled wildly inside its glass prison. He watched it detachedly, unscrewing the lid and entraping the butterfly in the cage of his fist. Flutters against the skin of his palm; shivering pleas for freedom.

 

For life.

 

He remembered her gentle, relentless disapproval. Her passive refusal to let go. How the mirror broke within her grasp.

 

And then he squeezed.

 

 

3. The Little Sister

 

They called her Coraline, now. A soft, pink-hued name for a soft, pink-hued woman, apparently all smiles as she wandered through the market. A string of young girls clutched her apron, whining for treats.

 

The July street was choked with other matrons and peddlers. The eldest child spied strawberries, and soon all of them were clamoring, hoping to cajole their mother into buying them a taste of the rare fruit.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, the woman named Coraline saw a flash of sleek blue. For a moment, the little sister remembered.

 

But by then he was gone.