Her own mask was heavy. Bits of glass reflected only the blueish light of the backstage, except when he thought he caught his own reflection in it, like a ghost. He felt as pale as the costume he wore.
In the dark, with her body wrapped in black tatters, she looked like nothing more than a floating, mirrored face.
"Okay, then," She said, "Here we go!"
The curtain swept aside, taking his stomach with it. The spotlights, at least, were bright enough to hide the expressions in the audience. Her mask shone shattered and ice white in the glare, and it set off a feeling of familiarity… the same he had felt when he first bumped into her. The same he felt lying on her floor talking among crayons and coal and white lines on black and black lines on white. He focused on it, the light and the feeling, and followed as she swept into the ring like a bird.