Mira didn't know how long she had been sitting in the plaza, wailing at the cruelties of the world, the world that let her die before she could live. The silent world that watched her demise, not even blinking in the face of her adversity. Her pain, brought upon her by a world that destroyed the dreams and lives of those who weren't ready to die, tore at her heart, ripping it and throwing the pieces towards the ground beneath her knees. Her pain grew and grew, filling the void where her heart used to be, and became who she was.  

The pain of loss, of death, of broken dreams and sour realities. It intertwined with her very being, becoming a part of her, sinking itself into her psyche. In her pain, she truly understood what death was. Before, she had never known death, had never looked it in the eyes and stared into it's horror, or felt the loss that came with a loved one's demise, her realization of her own life's end being the first real contact with the abyss. She wasn't eased in to it, never truly feeling the cold hand of death. Now, she is entangled in it, swallowed by it, all around her was death, and so was she. She was so lost in it, in the taint of death, that she never noticed the arrival of the person that came, the person that knew nothing, as well as everything about her.