Penny White stares into space during math class, caught up in the clouds and goodness of spring. SHe dashes to history, and she fawns over William Blake in her literature class. She laughs with her friends at lunch and gets into a mood after a long day. She spends time with her family before doing her homework when she gets home. She enjoys spending time with her cat and with her books - she loses herself in them.
And I know I've gotten this wrong.
And I know I'm writing about me.
But what's so different about us anyways?
I can't tell if she's real.
And she doesn't know I exist.
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