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.