She’s almost a figment of reality’s imagination. A folly of fantasy dreams.

It’s hard to believe that there’s more to her than a fleeting shadow that floats past thin drapes and tugs lightly on the velvet rope to let a sliver of sunlight break into her dingy room.

But she is. She’s a nose squashed against warm glass. A white talon that grips the rope like a lifeline. A small body wrapped in a childish pink t-shirt. And finally, saucer eyes that stare wistfully at the scum filled street below.

She’d never tell anybody, but she’s a self contained prisoner.