She was small for her age. Skinny and pale, a sliver of crescent moon smiling thinly through the dark clouds of tumbling black curls. The world around her was quite the same, but bland. Dreary and grey, the mist rose in pockets off cold, dampened concrete. The holes were overlooked, craters of desolate landscape, unnecessary accessories to an early morning walk. Few souls passed by her, but when they did, she seemed as an unnecessary an addition as the potholes below. The people were as misty as the landscape, all muddled from too long a time spent asleep, away from the world. Their minds were just beginning to whir and shoo away the fog. The girl was different, however. Her mind was clear; as bright and pure as the moon she resembled.