A cold voice ripped into her thoughts, "And you? How do you live life?"
She remained silent, expressionless, her face might have belonged to either a sleeping child or a corpse. However, inside, her head was whirring:
I live life by living. I'm sociable to people, and a select few of those I love. In the day time I go outside and breathe, because the air is fresh and clean. In the night I dream of places I've never been, of bright eyes and city lights. Sometimes when the world gets too big for my head to contain I write it all down, and live on paper. I exhale words onto the page and watch them form their own life and message. In answer to your question, voice, I live life by living.
The voice snorted, "That's not living! Why aren't you out partying every night? Why do you always wear sunglasses? What are you hiding?"
And, as before, she remained silent. Her mind, on the