I look into the mirror. It's me but not really. I'm wearing a band tee. My hair is long. My eyes are beaten by the night. My phone rings. It's her. Prettier and blonder her. Skinnier, too. Look into the mirror. It rings and rings louder with each beat that I don't pick up. I answer. She talks. I'm infatuated with her life. She speaks. Then, cries. Lies, he lied. I speak to her. I comfort. I look into the mirror. I shed a tear or three. She is happy.