The little girl sometimes went a long time without sneaking into the wing where the other kids lived.
Seemingly infinite stretches of time that blended together in her cold, shrunken world of same, same, same.
Periods where she struggled anew to meet her mother's expectations, pass her mother's tests, make her mother happy.
In the end she always found her way back there.
The temptation to catch a glimpse of real happiness too much to resist.
Of course the vignettes of their lives she could snatch from their existence during her hurried spy missions weren't filled with pure joy either.
They were being tested too from what she could tell.
White coats lectured them too.
They were poked and prodded and observed (and not just by her).
But they were together.
They smiled.
And laughed.
They lived.
As best they could.
Sometimes she wondered if that would be enough for her if she were given the choice to join them.
To never have answers.
Never reach whatever mysterious potential she had been striving for her entire life.
Never see her mother again, either the cold shell that remained or the warmth she vaguely remembered.
To just smile.
And laugh.
And live.
As best she could.