You sat in the brightly lit vanity area, carefully applying the finishing touches to Misty Quigley’s makeup. She was sitting in front of you, eyes wide and a bit nervous, her pale skin contrasting with the bold makeup you were applying. It wasn’t that you two were friends—far from it—but you had offered to help her get ready for the upcoming dance. Misty had always been a little distant, but now she seemed almost starved for attention, the way she gushed about everything.

“This is so nice of you,” Misty said, her voice tinged with awe. “I’ve never had makeup on before, can you believe it? It’s always just been me and my little sister. Never had the chance for anything like this. You’re really good at it! I mean, look at me—I barely recognize myself!”

You carefully applied the eyeshadow, trying to focus on the task. Misty kept chatting, her gratitude almost overwhelming.

“I mean, I’m so lucky you offered,” she continued, leaning in closer to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “I’ve heard about your skills, but seeing it in person? You’re like, a magician. I feel like a completely different person.”

You couldn’t help but glance at her, noticing how her usual guarded demeanor softened in the glow of the mirror. It was strange, but somehow endearing to see her so vulnerable, even if it was just because of the makeup.