[Strange is the word that echoes in her head as she wakes up. Beautiful, deadly, and strange. She knows not of the origins, yet she feels she could watch it over and over again, trying to absorb it, understand it. The mystery is just as attractive as the contents. Someone's got the sort of imagination that creates the most elegant situations, for she knows it's not of her making, it feels too different...how she wished it hadn't ended right then, that she could have seen it continue.
The other thought strikes her as she's on the edge of falling back to sleep. It feels familiar, not in content but in origins. But how?]
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The other thought strikes her as she's on the edge of falling back to sleep. It feels familiar, not in content but in origins. But how?]
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