She walks. Slowly, carefully, makeing sure with extra care to step on every crack she can without stopping or changing her course. She doesn't know why. She doesn't

know why she does this. She loves her mother, doesn't she? Her mother was the one that refused to get rid of her. She was the one who took pictures of her children.

She was the one who listened to the stories she was told. So why does she step on the cracks? Certainly she doesn't want mother to be injured. Of course not.

Unthinkable. If anyone was to be injured it would be her. The girl. Wth each step the pain should some how be directed to her instead of mother. But, it might not.

The young girl steers herself onto a bricked pathway, so she might clear her thoughts of cracks and family. Too bad. She soon finds her self in a park, a park she has

been to before. As she walks she recalls memories of good times in the area. No need for the bad, they would only upset her more. And, she had come here to relax

right? Probably not, she did in fact leave the house to relax, but had no intention of ending up here. She allows a gentle smile to spread across her face, as she

fondly gazes upon an old, abandoned swingset. Rusted from years of use. She sighs as a faint memory of a younger girl plays like a video before her. In the memory she

demands as feircly as a three-year-old can, that her sister is the next to swing. All the while an identical girl grabs the other's hand and, softly wispers that she

would rather play in the sand box with her, rather than fight. She blinks away the memory. And slips away now, a spring in her step. A large bright smile adorning her

face. She hops across the playground like a dancer. She glides across the sand box, very careful to not knock down the in-progress castles and, cities. Flouncing down

on the sidewalk she brings her eyes to the sky. She laughs. She laughs at the people, she laughs at the birds, she laughs at the swingset, but most importantly she

laughs at her memory. In it's self not being a particularly good memory, it's not even very funny, but she still laughs. She laughs at herself, for her thoughts of

sidewalk cracks and, breaking backs. Oh how she did love a good rhyme! And why should she take the pain if there was any from those cursed things? She skips down the

sidewalk and happily ignores the swarm of split cement coming her way. She instead focuses her attention on the direction of the market. Perhaps her friends might

enjoy the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafting throught the house upon their return home. She squeeled just thinking of the wonderful looks on their

faces. She sings now. As loud as she wishes she sings a chinese lullaby taught to her by a freind. Heads turn to see the child with the fantastic voice. She wonders

now if she should make two dozen or five? She sings louder now, never missing a note or a word.