Rock Paper Scissors

Rock, paper, scissors.
I picked rock. So did my reflection. I sighed with relief.
Rock, paper, scissors.
We both picked rock again. Good.
Rock, paper, scissors.
Both scissors. Maybe my friends were just pulling my leg. I smirked victoriously.
Rock, paper, scissors.
My flat, face-down palm shook as my reflection scissored his fingers together.
Game over.
Category:Mirrors
Category:Historical Archive
Category:Micropasta