There was no hand. She leaned against the grey wall, arms crossed head down. Black flats tapped solemnly against the ridged wall, counting the seconds alone. Looking through the bangs that separated her from reality, only the unflawed exterior shaded her from the looks. Quiet, she was known to be. Shy and smart. Words that described but failed to know. Sounds that resonated in an empty husk.
No one knew her except the words she had written. And the music. Both worlds that existed outside the hallway she lived in. It wasn't that others hadn't tried to know her, but she had failed them. Because it was the right thing to do. Her choices were the right choices because they were not easy.
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