I visit the coffee house everyday, and wait for her, my heart fluttering with childish excitement. I look through the glass window, out to the busy streets, full of zooming cars and colourful blinking lights.
She finally appears. I recognise her bright smile from across the street. She waves at me. I wave back, everyday.
I watch her crossing the road towards me. A car hitting her in slow motion, everyday. Her getting crushed beneath the wheels, the essence of her last grin starkly visible across her face.
I wake up to the chaotic, manic screeches of my cabinmates in the asylum, my own screams mingling with the rest.
Everyday.
