Her eyes refocus: dazed, tired, and still. Outside her window, echoes of the day linger in the final moments of sunset. The dimly lit room must thank the kitchen for generously creeping light through the house. Slowly, she starts to hear the air conditioning again.

On her lap lies an entire world. A meticulously flawed and crafted world. Broken heroes, perfect villains, humble others. She followed their days and nights, yet here she sits like she did before she ever met them. Alone. To her confusion, that world no longer wants her in it.  She can almost hear the men between the pages muffled laughter. Did she really think they would let her stick around forever? They never even noticed her face. An entire world was on her lap, but this world was not hers. 

She puts the unforgiving world back on its shelf and starts to make a cup of tea. As she fills the kettle with water, she stares out another window. Still black, still lifeless. Unsatisfied, she leaves this scene and finds another world on the shelf. A little bigger, a little nicer. Maybe they will let her stay. As she enters, the sun’s rays in the first few lines drowns her face. Again, she is gone. Another adventure. The kettle sings its song, but she can not hear it. Again, she prays she never has to come back.