And she's blank.

Imogen thought she knew what she was doing with herself. She was slowly growing out of her cocoon. Since time was not an issue, she allowed herself to listen to Bach and suck on caramel lollipops while the world around her kept buzzing. She was steadying herself for what she anticipated to be the biggest catalyst of her life.

Everyday, she opened her mailbox to find a long letter, still salty from being carried through the sea air. She didn't know exactly where the letters were coming from, but they told of a parallel world where everything she thought was supposed to happen was happening.

While clouds hung heavy up above and the mist slowly entered her window, she sat and read these letters. Every typed character had a stream of emotion that glazed their way over the sierras of her orange irises, burning themselves into her mind. She was no longer sitting next to the toaster oven in her dusty second floor apartment. She was floating somewhere beyond, holographing herself into the air surrounding her future. She knew the connection was real, but she couldn't actualize it for a few more months. "Strange Magic" was playing in the background and all at once, she was in the past, present, and future. The clock blinked 01:23, outside it was silent, her bones dissolved.