I decided, during a nightly before-bed routine, that it was inconvenient to look up at the mirror while washing my face when I could just as easily look at the water I was washing my face with. I did this—it went good god efficiently well—and I went to bed.

Around the nontocking hours of the aged night, my ears trembled and I abrupted out of bed to the bathroom. Sure enough, the two were fighting viciously.

I could hardly gasp “Cut it out!” when the shards of broken glass barraged me and I was in there both strangling the jaded mirror and knuckling the fixtures of water.

“Look into each other’s eyes.” I eventually said after my gorging blood flood surprised the two.

They stared into each other for a full minute, and embraced into the beautiful ever after.