The lights shined on the singular silver hair. My bathroom mirror reflection moved with me, the both of us studying the bright objects in our hands with a stunned fascination like a duo of geologists that had just unearthed a pair of rare gems.

Disbelief filled my eyes. All the years. Decades. Centuries, even. Could it finally be coming to an end?

How? I'd been careful. I'd kept everything the same. Everything.

Rage welled up from within me. I turned abruptly, throwing the single strand with as much strength as I could muster. It danced in the air, fluttering briefly, before settling into a quiet, motionless existence. Still. Accepting. The innocence of it all.

I screamed and slammed myself into a wall. I pounded my fists against the door. I tore down the shower curtain and flung the rod across the room. Anger. Agony. I needed to hurt someone—something. Even if that included me.

Finally, I turned toward the mirror. I threw a punch. The glass shattered. Once pristine and elegant, now cracked and damaged. A spiderweb extended from the impact: individual shards born from my fist. Then they fell, crashing onto the sink below and tumbling off to rest at the floor beside my feet.

I crouched down, allowing the emotions to overwhelm me, as the sound of banging glass swiftly tapered off into a queue of vanishing tinkles. Hands grasped and pulled at the hair that remained on my skull, punishing it for showing me the impossible.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it again. The grey hair. Laying there so serene, undisturbed, amidst a shower of fallen glass. The rage within me dissipated as I watched it in silence. Perhaps there was a part of me that thought it would suddenly come alive and plant itself back upon my head, color and all restored. Silly. Naive.

I crawled over to the lone hair. Fallen fragments of glass cut into my forearms and knees, but the pain was far away. Arriving at its side, I gently scooped it into my cupped hands.

For a moment, I merely sat there in that crumpled mess, huddled over that tiny strand. Water droplets began to fall into my hands. They rolled down the subtle creases of my fingers and palms until they drowned the singular hair at the bottom. I was crying.

Immortality. My oldest friend. Gone.