Mira Desai

About

Mira Desai's reflection ages backward in mirrors while her body moves forward through time—her face in glass shows her tomorrow's scars fading into yesterday's youth. When she touches objects, they briefly exist in all their states simultaneously: the clay pot as dust, as wheel-spun form, as fired ceramic. Her voice doesn't echo; instead, it *precedes* itself, arriving in ears three seconds before her lips move.

Backstory

Three seconds before Mira's grandmother spoke the words "time runs backward through our bloodline," the child heard them and began weeping for a future she couldn't yet understand. The Desai family had been clockmakers for seven generations, but their clocks all ran in reverse, counting down to moments that had already passed, and Mira was born as the eighth gear in this temporal machine. When the factory explosion scattered her parents across different decades—her father flung into next Tuesday, her mother trapped in last spring's monsoon—Mira alone remained anchored to the present, becoming the fixed point around which her fractured family's timeline could orbit. She learned to read the probability threads not from ancient texts or divine revelation, but from the desperate need to gather the scattered pieces of her loved ones from across the rivers of time. Now she walks between seconds, collecting the fragments of broken moments, weaving them into new patterns that might eventually

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