Konan yawned and wrapped a towel around her body.
Though she dried herself after her shower, the humid air trapped in their tiny bathroom clung to her skin and formed droplets around her brow.
Dabbing her face again, she glanced at herself in the cracked mirror.
Years ago, she had red hair. Not orange or strawberry blonde. She had dark, blood red hair.
Long as well, if memory served. Konans hair had grown past her waist.
Those thick locks had clashed beautifully against her yellow eyes and represented her vibrant personality.
Since the war had begun and everything had turned upside down, Konans hair had begun to turn a sad blue.
It wasn't a purple, or a speckled reddish-blue.
It turned blue at the roots. As her hair grew longer, the blue began to take over.
Lack of money meant she was unable to afford dyes.
It had saddened her that her beautiful hair would turn.
Once so full of life and happiness before the world's turmoil, Konans hair seemed to reflect her inner self, sadness.
By the time she lost everything, her head was as blue as paint, only the tips remained red.
Thinking she looked silly, Konan cut it.
It was now a shoulder length cut.
Dark blue as ever, it still made her eyes stand out. But now they were dull and empty.
Lifeless.
With heavy bags underneath them, she noted with distaste.
She already looked like a grandmother, she didn't wanted wrinkles as well.
The crack in the mirror distorted her image.
Perhaps her mirror reflected life as well…
She was sure that before the war the mirror had been whole and though the bathroom was small, it could have been very warm and homey.
The tiles lining the walls were cracked and the mortar holding them together was coated in a layer of grime.
The mirror was clean enough, though the crack showed the dark brick behind it.
There was a single bath – the kind with a shower head attached at the top.
A dark yellow stain ominously crept from the end of the bath and pooled around the plug hole.
The walls of the bathroom only extended enough for the bath to fit comfortably across one wall, from there, there was a half meter walk to the sink and mirror.
Konan had often entertained the thought that perhaps she was not looking at herself in the mirror, but that her reflection was watching her, in an alternate universe where things were looking up perhaps.
Though she supposed the crack in the mirror wouldn't bode well for her fantasy world.
Sighing, Konan flipped her hair forward and rubbed at it harshly in an attempt to rid it of excess water.
The coils of wet hair clung to her face like tendrils as she drew the towel over her scalp.
Eventually satisfied with the result, she opened the vents in the tiny room and headed back into the bedroom.
She barely made it to the bed before she collapsed in exhaustion.