Locked away in a deep and uninviting basement, she plays. Her minor chords strike into the pit of her heart. Desperately longing for an escape, she pours her sorrows onto scrolls and sheet music. Playing deep through the night, the circles under her eyes tell the story of her painfully afflicted mind. Her fingers blister and bleed staining the once ivory keys a dark crimson. The dark melody seeps through the cracks to the streets above. Robotic bodies hustle by, minding only their watches, celebrities and diets. Her heart beats like a mellow drum, though the pace of the song quickens. Paying close attention to its slow pulse, she wonders...

"Have I, too, become mechanical?"