She was young, about fifteen. Pretty, in a sad kind of way. Long hair. I didn't see a lot of her. It was kind of dark.

She had a glass in her hand. From what I could smell, it was pretty strong stuff. Vodka, maybe. Again, I don't know. I don't really drink.

She was slumped on the floor by her CD player, which was blasting out something I later recognised as Armor for Sleep. She was drowsy. From what I could see of her room, her family was quite well off. Her bed was covered in eyeliner and art pencils.

She took another sip of whatever was in the glass, and wandered briefly what effect it was having on her liver. Then she shrugged and necked the rest of the glass, before sinking into a liquor-induced coma. The music still blared loudly. I reached out to turn it down, and then I was gone.

So long and goodnight.