There once was a girl who had no past. Had no future. It had been erased. Erased from the wondering mind as a soon-forgotten name. She would lead her life as a human going through motions. She often asked herself, "Is it really myself that I see in the cool glass?" The greetings she would receive from the townspeople were false. The decorous compliments she would receive from many a fellow were without meaning.

There once was a girl who had no past. Had no future. She would go home to a full dwelling. Full yet completely empty. The void was vast and undying. Her heart as a whole was frigid. Not in the sense that it was harsh or miserly, but in the sense that it was numb. People in this void spoke. But they spoke a language the girl could barely understand. It was not a language of a nation, a religion, or a world beyond. She tried to block out this language but tried in vain. Her attempts only brought her closer to the enveloping vacuum. Escape was out of the question, was her thought. "I shall wait out the sand within the hourglass," said she.

There once was a girl who had no past. Had no future. The smiles were but a facade. The laughter was but an integument. Her entire life was an invention. A key on a kite, a telegraph, a wheel. Brought forth from the single mind. Brought forth from a mind which hid the truth.

There once was a girl who had no past. Had no future. Then you came along. The void began to deteriorate. The smiles became real. The laughter came from an unused, fervent heart.

The once was a girl who had no past. She now had a future.

Although the void still remained in the place of dwelling, a lukewarm luminescence started to envelop the once-unconquered vacuum. Things started to seem genuine. The girl could now say, "It is I, the girl who I see in the cool glass!"

The morning fog rose and hourglass spilled its last grains of sand as the girl turned to you and asked, "Is this real?" "Yes," you reply.

The wait is over.

Only the future remains. 1