Afterimage

Mariza stood in her bedroom, facing the mirror like it owed her money.

Her phone buzzed on the bed. The group chat name flashed: MIKU + NERU + TETO.

Miku’s message popped up. “Cafe after school? Please?”

Mariza watched her own eyes. One pupil red, one pupil green—like a traffic light stuck on two answers.

“She helped her,” Mariza muttered at her reflection. “And I was right here.”

Another buzz. A photo appeared: Teto at a crosswalk, laughing, her arm linked with someone cropped out of frame.

Mariza’s throat felt tight. She tugged a black hoodie over her red-and-black outfit, covering the cute parts like she was hiding evidence.

In the mirror, the red and green drained away.

Both pupils turned black.

Mariza grabbed her keys, left her room, and let the door click shut

Puddles and Posters

Rain tapped the sidewalks like impatient fingers.

Mariza’s hoodie sleeves covered her hands. Her phone buzzed again in her pocket, but she did not look. Black pupils stared back at her in every dark window.

A laundromat door whooshed open. Warm air smelled like soap and wet cotton.

“Careful,” a woman said, stepping around a puddle inside. She had short hair and a gray apron dusted with leather bits. A tiny sign on her chest read: KANNA, SHOEMAKER.

Kanna taped up a bright poster. It showed a pair of cartoon eyes and a headline: PUPIL-SWAP ART NIGHT. “Safe contact lenses,” Kanna said. “You borrow a color, you borrow a point of view. Festival starts tonight. Spots are almost gone.”

Mariza’s throat tightened. “Borrowed eyes won’t fix anything.”

The bell over the door jingled.

Teto stood outside, red hair damp, tan coat speckled with rain. She smiled, then froze when she saw Mariza’s eyes.

“Teto,” Mariza said, sharper than she meant. “So… who’s the new lucky person?”

Teto blinked. Her pupils flashed a color Mariza had never worn.

Kanna’s poster slipped, splashing into the puddle.