She stood there. Numb. Dead, but breathing. People passed around and about her. The only time someone seemed to notice her was when they accidentally pushed her roughly while in their hurried, city struts. Her head blasted as her ears filled up with the loud beatings of her heart. It was hard to imagine that such a bony figure could be able to produce such loud sounds on its own. As the wind blew, she felt it blow through her bones, through every vein and every muscle. She did not feel her hair brush against her face in the frenzy. She did not feel her clothes getting wet nor was she aware of the prickles on her skin. She let one slip. It was a long, bitter tear that cascaded down her pale face. She had never cried. She had never allowed herself to feel anything. She had always been in control, but not today. Today, she was the servant. The puppet. She was not aware who was pulling the strings but they were pretty good. Making her cry in public! The sounds grew louder as her heart rate increased with each muffled sob. Her chest vibrated while her heart seemed to be fiercely trying to break free. Be free. That is what she wanted, to be free. To be alone. To disappear. That was what freedom meant to her. She never allowed anyone to know her pain. Even today, her tears were hidden by the drops of rain that had now soaked her clothes. There, in a crowded city, unknown to anyone, a stranger to all, she stood, crying, the day the rain fell.