There have been times when she wondered if her silence will ever be loud enough for anyone to notice? Times when she sat at her window, the dirty smeared glass reflecting nothing but how she saw herself. She liked the thought of nothing having real sense to it and yet, she knew, not even deep inside, that the only thing she needed to breath, was the one thing about life that made no sense and at the very exact time, needed to make sense. It was purely dependent on which world, which realm, she found herself in, for this to not be as heavy as it was that day. It was the easiest thing in the world  for her to believe things didn’t matter, for her to escape whatever necessary little ruin she created in that moment. And ruin, she sure created. It was in this specific chaos that she found an almost patriotic sense of the window’s reflection.

But all that change the minute she saw his face.