I discovered a portal. It wasn’t in a crack in the floor in an old, creaky house at blinding dawn or in a deep, green forest at dimming sunset. It was in a pair of scissors. I lifted them to my eyes, balancing the blades between my thumb and forefinger and when I stared through the void, I saw my world reflected, reversed. Staircases zigzagged, upside-down. Little girls glued plastic lashes to their eyes and were women. In that reversed world, the scissors had not cut a star-shaped hole in my heart. In that world, I was not dead.