She started repeating everything I said in an effort not to have to have an actual conversation. So when she asked, I backed myself with silver and showed her that I figured it out: even mirrors are supposed to lie to you a little. At least lying takes a little work. I had my coffee with cream today, I said. Today, I had my coffee with cream, she said. This song, it’s beautiful. It’s beautiful, this song. It’s a tricky thing trying to catch your reflection but if you repeat something enough times, someone is bound to make a mistake. I’m listening, I said, and didn’t blink even if my eyes watered and stung. It took her a split-second to make the right shapes with her mouth and match them to the sounds. What I said was: you and I, we’re just talking shit out of my queer, crooked mouth.