She stretched out a little further on the couch, arching her back slightly before pulling her body taut. A faint sigh emitted itself from her full, red lips.

"I kinda' feel like a chameleon in a fishbowl, ya know?"

The doctor stared at her intently, notebook perched in his gnarled, liver spotted hands

"Could you perhaps explain that analogy Miss Summers?"

She was quiet for a long second, staring dreamily at the skylight that flooded the room with the summer suns warm rays.

"Well, like, I feel as if I change, like ya know my hair colour or something, my scenery and life circumstances stay the same"

He nodded and hastily scribbled something into his jotter

"I think I know what you need Miss Summers"

She sat upright on the couch, her hazel eyes meeting searchingly with his

"What's that then Doctor?"

His grey eyebrows knotted together in amusement.

"A Holiday"…

Sofia Summers stormed angrily from his office, the bright summer sunlight stinging her eyes.

She had paid £75 to see that poxy doctor and he had told her that all her problems could be solved with…. A holiday?

"I could've spent that seventy five quid on a new handbag" she thought morosely as she sipped genteelly on her strawberry milkshake.

That was her third therapist in a month! She grunted miserably before sinking herself more into the soft, worn leather of the chair.

22 Year old Sofia Summers was a 'complex creature' according to her previous therapist. 'Loaded with issues' they had stated. There was her inability to keep a job, despite being a recent University Graduate. This was mainly though thanks to her spoilt brat; and often diva like behaviour.

Her next issue was her inability to commit in a relationship.

"No therapist needed for that though" she grinned

That was easy enough to trace to a distant ex, in a distant time. Though she couldn't remember his name, she could remember with a great deal of fondness, the nickname bestowed upon 'it' by her circle of protective girlfriends. Nicknamed 'Pineapple Head' due to the largeness of his head and the blonde hair that sat atop it in sharp blonde spikes.

"Pineapple head" she murmured quietly into her milkshake, and drew aghast looks from the other individuals in the coffee-house, for the short, sharp burst of laughter that bubbled from her lips.

She remembered the secret society he had spawned. AMAC. All Men Are Cunts. The founding members still met every Friday and Saturday, rowdily though, as these secret meeting were often accompanied by riotous laughter and several bottles of expensive wine.

The meetings were often held in the upmarket wine bars of Whiteladies Road. A more sophisticated stomping ground for Sofia and her clique, with the latter being more attracted to the suave and cool attitudes possessed by the moneyed few who haunted these bars, then the drooling adolescents who inhabited central Bristol.

She remembered how he had triggered her penchant for changing her image in order to win him back, though the obsession with him had faded after 6 months, her obsession with her image had not.

She sat here, in a coffee bar. Blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. Each ash blonde strand teased into a gentle curl. Her skin shone a healthy brown thanks to a recent girls week away.

Her lips were full, cheekbones high and her green eyes sparkled with a playfulness that belied her twenty two years.

She surveyed her latest coiffure intently in the spoon she had been using to stir her milkshake. Content she thought back "And two weeks ago I was a red head"…..

After finise