She has a memory. One beautiful memory. Held in the palm of her hands, so that no one else might find it and steal it from her. Of that one summer morning, while they still slept. The pavement of the driveway cool on her bare feet as she stepped into the shadow cast by the tree in the front yard, and the sun burned golden at its edges. No one must have this moment. It must never be touched.
Because she must hold it so close to herself, she cannot hold onto any others. Pictures framed in broken glass fall through her fingers, because there must only be one world. One world, underneath the tree, where no one else exists. Let the others sleep. Let them all sleep. She is a girl standing in the shadow of a golden halo. She must never step out. She must live here forever.