No one thought to apologize to me. Then again, I wonder if I could blame them, since I always show it like it is. I have wished things could be different, especially for her. I first saw the girl when she was a toddler, barely walking, a spray of blond ponytail that waved and stuck up above the edge of the counter.

Through the years, I would come to see every aspect of her, body and soul. Innocent tooth-brushing soon included hours of hair styling and makeup, as she relied on me to look picture perfect. Blue eyes flecked with hazel, ringed in black or softened with pink powder. Without words, I could not tell her that her beauty lay underneath, in her silken skin. Instead, before me, she posed and pouted, cried and shouted. Often she would take my picture with her cell phone and post it online.

But then she began to reject her image. Her mouth stopped smiling, eyes darkened and sank, not meeting my gaze, and one day she never saw herself in me again. I could do nothing, just sorrow and reflect after her.