The girl was cold, wet, and hungry. She walked as swiftly as she could through streets shiny with rain and littered with sewage backwash. Her feet were bare, now covered with mud rather than the usual black soot and oil. Her skirt was in tatters and her shirt -- once red -- was faded almost to the faintest shade of pink.

What was it like, to be sheltered and warm? Around her, people walked carefully beneath umbrellas and raincoats and heavy boots. They were bundled up in jackets and sweaters and thick jeans. Warm. Laughing. Aware that at the end of the day, there was a place that waited for them where they could curl up in a soft bed, cozy underneath blankets, having fended off most of the chill with hot soups and rich meals.

How lucky they were, to have everything they could ever want or need. They could live and survive through this storm with ease.

The girl coughed, glancing at the sky. She willed the rain to stop, prayed to God to let it end. The last thing she wanted was to fall ill. How could she afford medicine? She imagined herself, skeletal and wasted, trying to sell rags and flowers.

No. She could not afford to get sick. She had work to do. Money to save. Maybe, someday, she could go to school again.

Maybe.

There was no harm in dreaming.

The girl was warm, a little too full, and deeply bored. She sighed as the car meandered through downtown traffic, the driver honking the horn impatiently at wandering vendors braving the rain and even slower motorists, cautious because of the slippery road. Loud music blared through the speakers. She and the family driver shared musical tastes. Heavy, grating rock.

Her mother and father waited for her at home, no doubt with a copy of her report card. Waiting. Ready to give her just one more lecture about her future.

That was all they talked about. It was always about her grades. How they simply weren't good enough. She was their only heir. She would have to take over the family business. She could not slack off. Could not stop to have fun every once in a while. At least, she was not supposed to.

She glanced at her half-open handbag, at the small packet just underneath her cellphone. Fine white crystals. They had cost a small fortune. Not that she cared. Her parents were too rich to notice, anyway. She reached a hand into her bag and moved the packet deeper within it.

It was her only way out, aside from killing herself. Not that she was averse to the idea of the latter. Day by day, it grew more and more attractive...

Sometimes, she even wondered how it could be done.

The car made an abrupt turn. The driver was usually reckless when she was the passenger because she never complained and she was always in a hurry to get from one party to another. Even in the rain, she didn't care. She was not afraid of dying.

The girl could hardly see now. The cold was seeping into her bones. She was not aware that she was shivering, teeth chattering in the invading chill. Numbed feet and fingers. Tangled hair. Clothes heavy with water.

I can make it to the skyway. Just under the skyway. There was shelter there. Just a temporary one. But there would be no angry shopkeepers shooing her away from there, or pedestrians giving her looks of disdain. Shaking to her very toes, she crossed the street.

The girl could hardly see now. The rain drove thick and fast, blurring her view through the foggy glass. The cold was starting to invade the vehicle and she put her hands in her pockets to warm them.

The car blasted down the freeway.

Then the skid.

The driver swore as the automobile suddenly swerved. She frowned and cursed as she was thrown to one side.

The driver wrenched the wheel, struggling for control. Behind them came angrily blaring horns and squealing brakes.

The car spun and shot toward the skyway.

The girl crawled out from under the car. A crowd was beginning to gather. She could feel something hot and wet trickling down her forehead and her vision was suddenly clouded red. Someone took her arm and helped her rise. Sirens wailed and lights flashed against the sky. The red and gray sky.

She turned. The car was upside down, the windshield smashed. She caught a glimpse of the car's rear wheel. A frayed skirt hung from the exhaust pipe. Then...

Then people were forcing her to look away. Not there. Look anywhere but there.

Lightning arced in the sky. And as she was led away to a waiting ambulance, she remembered -- regretfully -- the packet in her bag. The fine white crystals.

The police would find it.

Her parents would know.

Her life was as good as over.