The little girl got older.
Not so old that she felt anything but out of place surrounded by the white coats and their hushed and off limits conversations.
Not so old that she was above feeling sorry for herself when her birthday came around.
She wasn't sure she would even remember it on her own, a day that had lost any special meaning so long ago when she was truly little.
She knew it was April 9th though. Knew it because every time she scanned the ID card required to enter various areas of the facility a small screen flashed with her name, photo and date of birth.
Like those things were all that mattered.
Her existence reduced to a few points of data.
So she knew when she turned 13. Knew that it was her birthday and knew better than to expect any type of acknowledgment.
She wasn't expecting the nameless woman in the cafeteria to know.
Wasn't expecting her to slip her something so beautiful, and foreign she almost couldn't remember the name for it.
Cupcake.
Even the word itself felt magical as she rolled it around on her tongue.
It was an unexpected gift that should have been enough.
Instead it made the little girl brave.
It made the little girl want to share.