She runs on the soft green grass and falls. Rolling on its soft and moist cushion from the morning dew, she closes her eyes and dreams of lovely days now tucked far away in the crevices of time. When love and laughter filled her home. When dad and mom would talk about bringing her on holidays to beautiful places. When her sister would cook her favourite chips in tomato sauce, burning herself occasionally from the hot oil jumping on her arms from out of the old, worn wok. When she would play with her friends in the neighbourhood chasing down cats and burning their hiding holes.
She was rid of such joy the day her dad left home and her mom called, weeping.