Two girls used to be the best of friends, like sisters. But then one day, the best friend fell down and couldn't get back up. She pulled on her friend's hand, crawling on the dirt. The cup was always filled with bright, fresh flowers, but one day they suddenly wilted and disintegrated. Now the cup contains a single feather, from the friend that flew high, never into a dark cave. She stood strong, on top of a mountain, wings spread, she was free and content.

Her friend, skinny, sunken-faced, was creeping at the edges of the muddled lake, weak. She's too weak to get up.

The friendship gone, like a tasteless cup of tea. Strange snowflakes floated in the crisp air. The friend, smiling, tasted a snow flake. Immediately, she spit it out, choking on its tear-prickling taste.

She turned around, facing the twilight, away from the crawler. Out in the dark, a single star appeared. She walked towards it.