Your reflection doesn't move, chiseled jaw line remaining impassive as you move to brush away the locks. Another drop falls silently into the water. T...e rushing noise in your ears and head blocking the minuscule splashing. The ripples emanate and slowly your image fades. You once again notice the eyes behind you, barely reflected, or perhaps conjured by your imagination, as the ripples continue.Gradually, the pond returns to its previous state. Though the reflection you see is not your own. It. Someone who looked too clean, too perfect, too dangerous in the way that rich white people sometimes are. You know the kind. The kind who think nothing of having their maid deported if she forgets to clean the sink. I hated him without knowing anything about him. The fact that he hadn’t moved from Maddie’s side was enough for me. It was almost Christmas. Fairy lights were up. Mince pies. Mulled wine. Scented candles. That feeling of warmth that only a celebration can bring to the middle of. More

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