"She sits, staring at an empty screen, tendrils of smoke curling around its edges, her cigarette long-forgotten, burning away in the ashtray. It burns there alone, as does she. Thinking, pondering, burning, longing; these are the things that now occupy her time. She thinks of the friends she's made and lost along the way, some having drifted off to bigger and better things, while some were lost more permanently. Their faces dance through her mind in a dizzying ballet of memories, sepia-toned and ever-changing. Only one constant remains, and that is she. This person. This girl, trapped in a woman's body, who will never grow up, but will always feel the deep sting of who she was meant to be."
