"charlotte, are you ok?" my father questions. i'm looking up at the television, still stunned. it cant be. she was found dead on the scene, she had a severe lung infection, and inhaled far too much of the smoke from the fire. she didn't make it out of that apartment building alive, but i saw her... "um..i'm fine, just rediculously clumsy thats all." i nervously lie, quickly grabbing a broom and sweeping up the glass. and my father looks at me like i'm some kind of alien from outer space that he can no longer reach anymore. and somes i wonder if there is anything to reach for. maybe i'm just a mouse going through a maze that never ends, always hoping my piece of cheese will be around the corner but only finding another berrier or a path way that is going to lead me absolutely nowhere.