Mirrorlight

With a small sigh of frustration, she leaned against the mirror and pressed her palm flat against the smooth, cold surface, closing her eyes. Longing tore through her.

Please, come to me. Please. I need to see you, to know I’m not crazy.

Within a few moments, she began to feel warmth under her palm. Not a residual of her own heat, but something else pressed against it, as if the glass was a mere suggestion that separated her from something on the other side.

Cora didn't have to open her eyes to know that he was there again, inside the mirror, and a small sigh of relief escaped her lips.
She opened her eyes and looked over at her hand where it rested on the mirror. His hand had met it on the other side, pressing up against her own. A meeting of hands, like a meeting of souls. And she could still feel that odd warmth flowing through the thick glass.

She glanced up and saw him staring down at her with the same intensely sad, keenly lonely look from the night before. There was a hunger to his expression, an aching need that she understood all too well. His eyes flicked back and forth, studying her as she stood before him, drinking her in as she did him.

“Hello again,” she whispered against the glass, her mouth curving slightly into a smile.