Her fingers smelled like matchsticks and if you looked into her eyes, the stars you hear about in every fairy tale have been replaced with flickering flames that seemed to dance as she smiled. She smelled of ash and smoke and she reminded you of the wind, like if you looked away for just a second too long, she would wisp away and all that would be left is the scent of smoke. She flickered like a flame, there one day and gone the next, and you could tell that she was never meant to be a permanent fixture in this world. She was made for a quick burn, she was made to leave a mark a let the world know she was there, but only briefly and then like the fires that filled her veins she would fade and eventually her light would die. She was only made for short times, something meant to be replaced with something more permanent. She was not your happy ever after. She was just the placeholder.