Broken Mirror

She watched as the mirror fell onto the floor smashing into tiny pieces. 7 years bad luck.

Shards of glass lay on the kitchen tiles waiting to be cleared. They'd have to be cleared before someone got hurt; gently handled and disposed of, gathering piece by piece whilst being careful not to cut oneself.

And although the mirror had broken, fragments of the looking glass still functioned. She bent down wondering if the pieces could fuse themselves together again. Images of herself stared back. A glimmer of red, an eye of green and a smile that used to be reflected on individual segments.

A hand reached out silently.

A voice spoke, "Don't worry. I'll deal with it."

Willow watched as Tara picked up the pieces efficiently, mechanically.

Thrown in the bin amidst the rest of the household garbage, the remnants of a broken mirror.

7 years bad luck.

Nothing much compared to a life without Oz.