"What the fuck," I completed my thought.I looked past the old biddy at the mirror behind the desk. The HippyChick kept reading her book. It was as i... I wasn't even there. In themirror I saw what I understand was my reflection, since it blinked whenI did and moved when I did. But it wasn't me. Not the me that hadwalked in the shop. I was clearly now a blonde chick with a supermodelface, made up in the most fuck me expression I could imagine. I waswearing a shiny pink lycra halter top. A group pic at the beach and he was tall, shirtless and ripped and holding a girl in his arms. I remembered how I used to sit in the gym at our high school and admire his muscular body as he played basketball. He looked good back then but now he was all grown up and much more muscular and I wondered how it felt to be that girl in his arms. I clicked “Add Friend.” I just wanted to see more pictures of him. It was all innocent. A few days later I logged onto my profile and found a message from. More

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