Interlude

She was wonderfully and purposefully designed to play the part, they remarked. At first, she wondered by whose design and for what purpose the designing had been committed. She was a professional at forgetting her lessons. Sometimes she wouldn't even recollect the most important of names and times. Her lines were selfish because it was easier that way. It was her nature to put on elaborate engagements of letting go and starting slow. But we all knew she would never change. And she feared any different. They told her the development of character would never supply the well that sustained her. It never had. And she was so comfortable being wretched that even the possibility of tender change frightened all her potential away. To grow up was to give in. And that was something she wasn't willing to give up. Not yet anyway. So then by whose design. Her own, I presume. And for the why? Well, let's just say it's easier when it's a show for one.