The winter sun streamed through the high windows of the cafeteria, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. To anyone else, it looked like a beautiful, crisp afternoon. To Kai, it felt like an interrogation lamp.

He sat hunched over his untouched tray of food, staring at a puddle of condensation on his soda can. His hands were tucked deep into the pockets of his hoodie, clenched into fists. He didn't want to look at them. Every time he looked at his hands, he saw the mirror. He saw the white streaks. He saw the handkerchief.