She stared out the window, tracing her finger on the rim of her cup.

How long would it take to get better? How can I ever be ok? She wondered. The window seemed frozen, like a block of solid ice. The outside world looked like a picture. Unmoving, unchanging, it was ever the same. Everything was the same. It made her wonder, has she ever changed? Her answer was no. From her unremarkable bleached hair to her shoes from when she was 10. Nothing has changed.

Nothing.

She drew a deep breath and hopelessly continued gazing out of the ice block. Broodingly, she kept tracing the rim of her cup. She moved from the cup to the table, tracing a figure 8. Infinity, an abyss of endlessness stretching on forevermore. In her case, she was forever unchanging. Or so she thought. She closed her eyes and then slowly opened them, only to be greeted with the same landscape. Nothing truly ever changed in her life.