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She doesn't smile anymore; she used to and she tries very hard to continue in her old ways of jollity and frivolities only to be left short every time; after every endeavor toward a greater goal. What that greater goal is of course she knows not, maybe one day soon, always hopeful that the one day will come in the next hour, she will reach that goal, if only in the form of comprehension of it.

She took to the moped in the fresh darkness of one night, in search of her smile, destination un-chosen, it was to be an adventure she hoped; she would go where her pasty headlight would take her. She winced as the crack in her elbow took the strain of the cobbles in the lane. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to take to traveling at this late stage when the evils of the nighttime air were about; she didn't care, she had to go, she knew that much, go, somewhere. " Nup, enough of that, pack it back in the shed kid, get yourself on a tram and get down here!" Not sure if these were good words of advice to be taken, she was reluctant, providing all manner of excuse; too far, too dark, too much fear. No point being fearful was the only assurance she got, that and the guarantee of being met at the other end. She went, into the dark, fear not gone but no longer leading her into the night; she was no longer lead down the unforgiving cobbles that played so fiercely and full of spite on her broken arm.

The doc did say it was alright to ride though and she thought she'd take advantage, with no such luck however, she put on her red red skirt and toward the tracks she ferried herself. She sat on the surely slowly moulding seat of the tram, listening to the society around her, curious of the society she'd find on her arrival. At the end of the street, where the tram was to turn she alighted, sighed and waited for the little green man to usher her across, he did as such and she took off at a pace, toward her destination. The old smokestacks loomed over the purple skyline, imposing themselves on the night; she read their slogans, written by the free and protesting, she contemplated their worth but did not stop. "Ey, y'h alright swee'heart?"

Yeah alright, she thought of the heckles that greeted her along her way past the remand centre and the end of the line, her ankles dipped where the leading alleys met the curb; the hecklers forcing her to uneven ground but she pressed on. He had said two blocks, awful large blocks these she thought, but maybe, she thought, he was generally interested

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