She's tall. Not as tall as me, but tall.

Broad shoulders.

Long legs and arms.

Big feet.

Then her face, unlike mine, looks straight out of a fashion magazine.

Light, bubble gum pink lips.

Long, dark eyelashes.

Metallic pink eyeshadow.

No bags under her eyes.

Small, thin nose.

High cheekbones.

Perfect eyebrows.

Her hair matches her lips- light pink. It's slightly curly, reaching down to her shoulders. Her bangs just reach her eyebrows.

She models a light pink sleeveless gown that touches the ground. Must be tailor-made.

I'll admit it- she looks like a model. Probably is.

I look like a hobo standing next to her. My pajama pants littered with peace signs are a few sizes too small, and my purple tank top that grew up with me is stretched out far too much. My hair probably looks gross.

She takes my hands in hers.

"Oh, darling," she whispers, "look at you."

"Wh-who are you?" I ask.

"Darling, you must be so lost. It's okay. Look. I got you. I'm like you."

"Like me?"

Suddenly, this model girl has a pair of angel wings. Figures.

She pulls me closer and whispers in my ear, "Do you understand?"

Like it's some secret.

I shake my head.

She motions to the tree. "Let's talk there. It's a private place. I feel so exposed on this rooftop."

I nod. She bats her wings, and almost instantly, she's perched on a thin branch and nods at me. I've never jumped this far a distance, but for some reason I feel connected to this girl.

I jump.