It was five o'clock somewhere, but here the sunset was already beginning to let its colors fade out from behind the clouds.

Madeline Roedell steadied her breath, drew up her shoulders, and forgave her consciousness for the screams of revolt that were currently exploding inside of her skull.

She removed a crumpled reciept from her purse, uncapped her eyeliner pencil, and began to scribble a note to her future self.

Madeline was not a wanting girl, she was merely the product of her abandoning surroundings. With little in hand, it is much easier to dream oneself to be deserving of better circumstances.

In the twilight of our past decisions, we can never look back and attempt to drag the sun back into the sky. We must let the light - and the moment - pass underneath our feet, in faith that we will once again feel the warmth of another day.