The day had begun like any other with the sun hung in the sky like the gold medallion of an Olympic medalist. She was still in bed, laying there like a bump on a log, not so much because she literally was a bump on a log but because the author of the story thought only to use some trite and overused metaphorical phrase to see whether it fit. You see, she was no ordinary human…well, of course, she wouldn’t be any ordinary human, seeing as the author of the text was neither any ordinary human. How could she be ordinary if he were not ordinary?

But this is not about the author; this is about Katrina, the young woman in the story, who was very depressed and down and out and all the things that come along with all that. She wasn’t quite suicidal–I mean, she had no specific and measurable plans on which to act–but she wasn’t quite herself, whoever that was supposed to be. Katrina was tired and worn out, weary from the burden of living and ready to be done with it all. Still, she had no plan.

A desire without a plan is only a wish, and wishes are like stars, distant and far-off, too much out of reach to hold–and even if they were nearby, they would burn you up alive. Wish as she might, Katrina could do nothing about her lot in life, pitiful and painful as it was, a gnawing nothingness digging into the back of her brain like long-nailed fingers, skinny and taut, gnarled at the knuckles, and ready to scratch away all of the tissue inside her head.

She lay staring at the ceiling, sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, washing over her face and body, which were covered with thin white sheets. She could hear the sound of birds chirping outside, frolicking in the trees. Something so sweet as the song of the birds and so delicate as the rays of the sunlight upon the sheets under which she lay were not enough to rouse her, for she was forlorn and lost, the world itself lost to her and she to it.

Waking up was the last thing she wanted to do, feeling as tired and sleepy as the dwarf of Snow White by the same name. Katrina couldn’t sleep, though, because she had been sleeping too much already, but she was lethargic and languishing in the throes of despair.

“Hello,” came a soft voice.

“Hello?” Katrina replied slowly.

At this point, the author became very tired and needed to end the story.