"So many people make themselves into those paper dolls they used to cut out when they were children. Everyone in the same shape as the next, naive and paper thin. It's something rare when a person has no paper chain to hold onto. I am almost convinced you are one of those rare cases, Mark, I'm glad."

***

    It had to have been past one when Mark finally laid his head upon that pillow once more. And he was nowhere near ready for sleep just yet. Because before dreamland is a necessary period set aside for pondering, and on this particular night--no--morning, he had quite a lot to ponder over. 
    
    She talks like some crazy hippie, but her words tangle. Speak of the devil. His phone buzzed; it was a text most likely filled with even more of those words.

    Come to the park at 11:00 A.M. tomorrow. "Perfect Day" by Verbal Jint, can you look over the lyrics sometime? I'm sorry to have contacted you at this incredibly late time.

         -Jenni

    Not sorry enough to have held back.

***

    It was 11:30 when Mark stumbled into that park. Why should he care if he was late? She should be thankful that he came at all, right? He had an answer to neither. He discovered her, playing her guitar on a bench. There was a bucket in front of her, inscribed with a hastily-written "thanks." It seemed like this was her domain. A person stopped and placed a bill into the bucket. The song soon ended and Mark wandered over. She took notice.

    "Mark! I'm surprised you came," Jenni said

    "You asked me to, didn't you?" He responded with a question.

    "Not everyone in the world is so kind as to answer such requests."

    "How long have you been here?"

    "Two hours, did you memor