....she wondered where it led. Race cars bursting with thoughts zoomed around the contours of her mind, as she ruminated over the truth of her being. Born one early night to a waiting mother, she had been a prize at birth. As any market good apart from wine, her value diminished with time, and soon, her age rendered her worthless.
The hollow image stared back at her, mimicking her blinks and breaths; a dark and empty use of skin, blood and very little else. The windows to her soul were open to no view, but wait...there was a glint which had not been there before. It was the weakest glow of the newly blown out candle flame. The persistence of a strong gush of wind propelling the hurricane to destroy the town. A light so dim, it should be waning, but with the arrogant pride of the strongest beast it stays alive, and threatens to never die. A blood curling warning to the very thought of extinguishing it. The lighted rear end of a measly firefly, with the surety of a lighthouse towering above life ending rocks, atop an iron strong house of stone that fights the worst of rocky shore sea storms hailed with howling salty winds.