She Had Had The Pain; It Had

People Looking Up At Her--at Her Smooth Pretty Vivacious Face--had No Way Of Knowing About The Painfully Articulated Resolves Formulating In Her Mind.

Let Me Be Something Every Minute Of Every Hour Of My Life...and When I Sleep, Let Me Dream All The Time So That Not One Little Piece Of Living Is Ever Lost.

She Went Out And Took A Last Long Look At The Shabby Little Library. She Knew She Would Never See It Again. Eyes Changed After They Looked At New Things. If In The Years To Be She Were To Come Back, Her New Eyes Might Make Everything Seem Different From The Way She Saw It Now. The Way It Was Now Was The Way She Wanted To Remember It.

She Had Become Accustomed To Being Lonely. She Was Used To Walking Alone And To Being Considered 'different.' She Did Not Suffer Too Much.

Well' Francie Decided, 'i Guess The Thing That Is Giving Me This Headache Is Life - And Nothing Else But'.