She thought she was used to it all. She thought her self-imposed isolation kept the ills of the world from touching her. She thought the drink dulling her senses kept her heart static and frozen, and diluted any... longing. She knew what she had and tried to be -if not content- at least accepting of her lot in life. She tried to keep up the veneer of respectability by feigning a loyalty to her husband and her family, with the caveat that she was wealthy and could simply play the role of homemaker... she knew she was not the only woman in Atlas playing up the illusion of normality. She knew she was not the only one who only ever pretended to be happy.

She did not consider any of those women her friends, but she was cordial with them whenever she had to make an appearance... a new round of stock adjustments, a charity fundraiser, one of Weiss's concerts... the bare minimum of social expectation and the bare minimum of socializing. She understood their pain, always keeping themselves pretty for the cameras and the press and beating back the ravages of age... and keeping a glass of wine in hand to be refilled as often as necessary to make it through another appearance. After a few drinks -and away from any walls with their omnipresent ears- they occasionally let slip how they kept themselves intact and whom they actually took care of themselves for... and that at least made such appearances bearable. It gave her something to think about.

Unfortunately, she was also a very recognizable woman with a name known all over the world. What her father built for his kingdom -and what she convinced him to give to Jacques- meant she could not go anywhere without being identified. She couldn't be discreet.

But her girls were gone from her house. She didn't relate at all to her son, and knew it'd be more work than she was willing to put in to make the connection... and he was already becoming his father's creature anyway. So she let those connections slip away, and the loneliness only grew worse...

Another drink to keep her heart from thawing. And another. And another. It always took more.

She perused online often enough. Her husband didn't pay attention to her and her staff were paid well enough not to speak on her vices. But all she could do was observe. She could never leave her gilded cage and partake.

One night, the drink would not satisfy... watching did not temper...

She created a profile. She still had her senses about her and was able to avoid mentioning any incriminating detail. Instead she focused on the truth of what she was.

Bored. Lonely. Betrayed by time.

Unfulfilled.

She made some event of it, taking the time to work on a profile shot that would not betray her. The white hair would be a telltale sign, so she didn't focus on that. She gave them something more interesting to focus on, angling her camera just so... revealing a bit more of herself.

Time had weathered her, but she had the best plastic surgery money could buy. She was still the envy of many women her junior. And if she flaunted it a bit, surely someone would notice...

She went to enter her name. She actually typed the word "Willow" before she stayed her hand, stopping to think.

Who was she? Or -more accurately- who did she want this corner of the CCT to think she was?

She wanted someone to acknowledge she still had worth. She wanted someone to pretend they cared for her, even at the most base...

She glanced at the bottle lying on the floor and settled on a name she thought would be pretty without betraying too much to her potential suitors: Zinfandel.

The rest was as honest as she would allow herself to be. The rest was just the bored housewife, lonely without her children's company and cold without her husband's love...

She could've stopped. She could've simply discarded it and said she'd had her fun.

Willow took another sip. Still the drink wasn't enough...

And she finished it, sending it into this dark corner in the hopes that someone could find her, and finally know what it was not to end her night feeling alone and unwanted...


For weeks, nothing. She noticed the profiles of other women -some of whom she recognized from her social circle- had taken the time to lie, aging themselves down by as much as a decade. Willow hadn't taken that step, and even desperate men ignored her. Her profile had been viewed several times, and never once had it been answered.

She returned to her drink. She knew it'd be a slow march further and further beyond reach, but she kept going... now that her only other avenue seemed blocked off...

Sometime later in her haze, she saw a notification. A comment on her profile...?

Willow opened her Scroll to find a message from a user named LoveDaddy... a single father with a -she pulled up his profile and read on- wholesome sense of humor and... cargo shorts?

The message he sent her wasn't a request to meet up, or a comment on her racy photo, but a request for friendship. On a site like this one, that was usually an invitation for something very different...

Willow accepted it. Having one friend was better than having none, even if it was only a number on an online profile...

He sent her another message. He encouraged her that this online dating thing was an adjustment for everyone who tried it and not to let herself be bothered if she didn't find what she wanted right away...

Willow could repay his courtesy at least; she still remembered that. She graciously thanked him for his counsel.

He told her a bit more. He'd recently ended his relationship with another user he'd been matched with on the site -upon seeing her username Willow immediately looked up her profile- a much younger woman who'd been fun for a time but he'd eventually lost interest in because she only really wanted him for... less than the total companionship he'd hoped for. He had enjoyed himself, but they weren't compatible anywhere but the bed... and he worried that someone so young might alienate his daughters whenever they came by to visit.

It was... oddly endearing. And he had two girls too... lonely without them in the house...

Willow asked him about them all. Apparently he'd been married twice, divorced one and widowed from the other and tried to be happy with just his daughters, but after they went off to school he'd been trying to find something else to fill the void... and it seemed even a beautiful woman warming his bed hadn't been enough. He wanted something more than just... that.

Willow set her glass aside for the first time that night. She asked him where he was, what his home was like.

Vale. A nice cabin off the coast. A tiny corner of the world.

Even there he might've known her name. But if he didn't...

He asked her if she wanted to keep talking; if she'd tell him about herself. About her day.

No one had asked her that in years...

Willow thought she'd find something profane, even vulgar in this place. On some level, that was what she'd been hoping to find.

And yet...

Willow mentioned she'd had a few too many. She mentioned that she missed her daughters too and sometimes worried that they didn't want to return... that they didn't miss her, and didn't have reason to.

He reassured her that children always tried to love their parents. He told her even a small house felt empty when they weren't there.

Willow was quiet for a long time, staring at his words on her Scroll.

Quiet but for the first beat of a heart beginning to thaw...