No one listened to her. They said she was an outcast, a rebel. She believed in peace, not war. She believed in choices, not commands. She knew right from wrong. She lived in a fantasy that was all her own. She shared it with no one, with no friends - just her crude and selfish father. She was often found hiding out in her dark, draped room, listening to hard rock, writing about suicide and abuse, and talking to no one. They said she had cold, hard-core eyes. No sympathy. Just darkness. They were wrong.

She was alone. Never did she figure that she would find an equal. Someone to share her mind. Someone to search her soul, so she could search theirs. And so, she never bothered to look. She thought she was special, that there was no one equal to her. Not superior, but equal.

And so it happened, she found him. Or rather, he found her. He came to her like a fantasy. She was sitting around, thinking her thoughts. He rode by her on a motorcycle. She glanced, but caught her interest for only a second, since it was just someone on a motorcycle. He slowed to a stop and gazed at her through the face shield on his helmet. Then he left.

That same day, he rode by again. This time, without a helmet. She was sitting at that same spot, thinking those same thoughts. She looked at him as he passed by and took note of his shiny, straight, black hair, the same as hers. She put the thought out of her mind and continued to think. Minutes later, he drove by yet again. This time, loud music was playing. She recognized the song. It was her favorite. As he slowed to stare at her again, she noticed his eyes, crystal green, the same as hers. She became confused, but not so confused that she looked away. Instead, she gazed at the handsome stranger. Then he left.

It was days before she saw him again, but he came to her the same way, with the same song playing and the same intense look.

This time, she was ready for him. She stood up as he slowed to a stop and approached him. Their eyes, just inches apart, gazed with honesty and integrity. They both became aware of a longing, a need, a wanting to be together, to teach one another, to protect each other. He raised his chin and held out his hand for her.

She looked at his hand and glanced back at her house. There in the window, staring at her crossly was her father, waiting for her. She smiled.

She took the stranger's hand and climbed on behind him. She saw her father run from the window and open the door. She waved and whispered in the stranger's ear "Go." He complied and they took off, never looking back.

Ten days later, her father was giving her eulogy with a handful of people and the handsome stranger looking on, handcuffs on his wrists. She crashed his motorcycle destructively into a tree. She never knew what hit her. But the stranger did. And he told her, in a dwelling far beyond all his tomorrows, where she waited for her handsome stranger to take her away again, to a place that words could never describe. Her fantasy had come true.