Our story begins with a girl. She was beautiful, but not in the way you might expect. Her hair did not drip with gold; her eyes were not the color of the summer sky. Her smile was crooked and broken, and the bags under her eyes, omnipresent. Her hair did not shine, nor did her eyes, and her laugh was tired, as was her smile. And yet, she was beautiful. She was beautiful in the way the ocean kisses the shore, in the way poetic words flow from broken hearts. Mostly she was beautiful because she refused to taste defeat, even when it was all there was to eat. Her name was Joy, though she never felt any.