Elsa thought one of man's greatest setbacks was that he had only one body, built with only two hands and two legs and sometimes a faulty heart. He can't always be where he needs to be, or where he wants to be, and the outcome isn't always favorable. His hands may come as a set but are overwhelmed by the workload and too young to know how to juggle. Between routine date nights and soothing silence, Elsa couldn't find the effort to keep up with the first when she no longer felt a spark.

That's what she was going to tell her partner tonight. At least, something along those lines after she cancels their dinner reservations for the fourth time. Elsa raked her fingers through her hair and scowled. Her gaze shifted between the countless open tabs on her desktop, a chocolate shake to her left, and the camera to her right.

When she became a photojournalist, she knew there would be a fair amount of writing but she also expected to be out in the field doing what she loved. Of course, she was young and inexperienced compared to the big shots in the office, which left her on paperwork duty more than the others. But it didn't stop her hands from missing her camera's weight. She stared woefully out the window, her thoughts wandered toward the dishevelled stranger she saw the other day… who just happened to be loitering across the street.

Elsa squinted and pinched herself a couple of times to check if she was awake. Well, the stranger wasn't nearly as unkempt as before. The woman had her hair twisted in twin plaits with side swept bangs and a rebellious streak of dye. Elsa didn't notice that white tuft before, or how nicely her reddish-gold locks complimented her fair skin. Her ruddy cheeks and sniffles had been replaced with a certain solace that made the onlooker feel at ease. Of course, the stranger lived in a completely separate world but when she laughed Elsa felt her own lips quirk into a smile. Really it was a shame, she thought, that humans could only be in one place at a time.