As the little girl got older she studied hard.
Some of the people in white coats came into focus, names were assigned to faces, and a makeshift classroom was made just for her.
She was taught about science and computers and other subjects her mother deemed important for hours everyday.
But she never learned what the other kids did.
Whatever they were learning was off limits.
She saw them sometimes when she dared to creep to the wing where they were kept, the tiny window in the door to their classroom affording her a tiny glimpse of what it would be like not to be alone.
She hated them sometimes.
She hated them for being together when she was alone.
She didn't know yet. She hadn't learned the truly important things.
No one ever thought to teach her.
She didn't know yet, being together wasn't the same as not being alone.