She turned the pages slowly, methodically. She looked at each letter and replayed every syllable. Her own words ran through her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted by her careful reading. Chapters one to five had been written when she was living the life of her childhood dreams. The next three chapters were painfully typed out while she had nothing but her book to look forward to. As she continued to read and re-live, her mother stood a few feet away with her steaming cup of coffee, scared to interrupt. Breaking her trance would kill her.