Her

Normality. I let her have a precious gift: time. It is my reward, in a sense. For I know how it works, I know it well. Time sometimes bends, tickles, hicks and jumps. And there goes normality out the window, through a banged door, a maddening phone call, a crysome conversation. Nothing of her remains then. Nor could it be any other way. It's the price she pays, normality, for the time given to her. When all life brakes loose new rules apply, all is made possible, all is written anew.