She was alone. She had her friends and her family and her pets. Yet she was alone, and even more so, she was lonely. She had never felt love. Never felt the raw emotion that goes along with it. She had only known the pulsating flesh and the heat that radiated from the bodies of which she had laid upon. Each night she would fall asleep cloaked in the heavy plush blankets that sprawled across her bed, and every morning she would awake colder than the previous night. She would walk a few steps from her bed to her bathroom. Graze her hand across the granite counter top. Reach for the stained porcelain sink handle, and begin to brush her stained porcelain teeth. She dreaded the mornings. As she stared in the mirror and she tended to her hygiene she felt her eyes begin to weigh down. Each morning she would try to succeed on her own and each morning she would fail. As she'd leave her bathroom she would gaze upon her dress for work that morning. She would slide it up to her waist, over her shoulders, then she would let out a deep breath. She refused to put her makeup on before this, she knew what came next would hurt. As she began to reach behind herself she struggled. She pulled and tugged upon the zipper. Rolling across her bed at times. Feeling the pulsating flesh and radiating heat with each turn. When she was finally finished with her battle she would stare,entranced, into the mirror hanging from the door of her bedroom. She felt no accomplishment, no success, and even less happiness than the minimal amount that she felt when she awoke. She only felt a shadow, a void, behind her during every attempt. Each day she would do this, and each night she would repeat the struggle with her dress. She longed for pulsating flesh and radiating heat to help her zip and unzip her layers. She longed for someone to fill the void. Yet every morning she would zip and unzip her dress, adding and removing the layers by herself.