Fake Hearts On Ice
Outside, someone down the corridor blasted music that vibrated through the thin walls, bass thudding like a that of a baby volcano.
“It’s a party, Lila,” she finally said lazily. “ Just a hockey team party. You’ll survive.”
I stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of my skirt like it had personally betrayed me.
My reflection stared back, too aware, too sharp-eyed, already imagining everything that could go wrong tonight. The fairy lights above my desk flickered, one bulb dying mid-blink, and somehow that felt symbolic in a way I didn’t want to think of.