The music blared in my dead hair cells, no sounds were processed to my cochlea in my ears. My chest vibrated to the beat of the deafening music. I watched, in awe and curiosity (my arms crossed over my chest to preserve heat), watching the women, the survivors dance, swaying gently to the music in the dim darkness.

I got up, grasping and gathering up my long dress and walked out of the living room. I walked down the short hallway, passing the side staircase and the shoes that were sprawled all over the ground helplessly, and opened the door with one hand. A gust of wind blew straight into me, pushing me backwards, commanding me to be polite and remain in the house: but I was exhausted and fed-up. I forced myself forward, fighting against the adamant wind; and I stepped out into the young night, where the moon was shining down, stars could scarcely been seen from Earth, and the clouds have went home, somewhere behind the gargantuan sheet of twilight sky.

‘’Pearl, here you go.’’ Layla holds a box with my lotus milk cake that my family brought for me from their outings. 

The arms of the gargantuan gates opened, welcoming me into Kew Gardens.