𝕁𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟙𝕤𝕥, is the day she wrote. A young woman who walks in power and a will to thrive but she was never cut throat. For she has made her new years resolution; on the belief that no matter what fight, She would prevail above all. The year had been taxing before. Had she counted her stars and prayed that the year would come to an everlasting conclusion. Whispers from down the halls say \"this year was taxing\" and others match with \"but i won\'t forget it\" This young woman who seamlessly zips up the same dress she wore many a year ago. looks idly into the looking glass; not aware that her face has changed nor the mirror image she believed herself to be- Had become someone new. For this woman who hides away in her tower and all things alike and kind. She braces herself for a new year-a new year to be alive.
For no one knows her real name that she has done an amazing job at hiding away. 𝕁𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟙𝕤𝕥, is the day she wrote, before stepping out of that same old apartment. The same one she has lived in for some many a year. The same one she knows will always be her home. \"Take my bags for me dear\" an older woman notes, before taking the elevator to the highest floor. This young woman, who she flies on by. through the time turning doors and onto the busiest streets alive. \"Isn\'t it beautiful?\" the cab driver says, fire works lighting up the sky. \"Yes but if i sit here not a minute more. I might take you up on that hiking offer sometime do be sure\" the music blares over the footsteps of thousands-people laughing, singing, and rejoicing it was loud then.
𝕁𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟙𝕤𝕥, is the day she wrote. A young woman-that same young woman steps from the car and into the tower of floors. \"May I take your coat?\" says the front desk bellman. She gestures but shakes her head no. \"Do believe I wont be here long. Think of me as a ghost\" He smiles \"A beautiful ghost at that\" She ascends to the elevator door that takes her to the number \'24\'. Up scales the floors, number by number disappearing. The piano plays, the people sway-the room is enlightened with lively faces. None that she has ever not seen before at least in this life time. For she has been here, a long time-many a year ago. \"Marvelous darling!\" she yells over the soft claps. The violinist bows and the pianist tips her hat. \"Have I seen you before?\" a young man says, the young woman courts \"Maybe-maybe no\"
\"For this will be the first and last time you see my face\" she then turns away. \"You played lovely \" she whispers to the pianist who smiles up ecstatic. \"Oh I didn\'t think you would come!\" for her deep blue eyes look shocked for the first time. \"Always for these things, I only go to start the new year with you\" then the clock counts down from ten. \"That is my que, Happy new years dear\" she leads out of the room. \"Five!, Four!\" she peers from the vast window. a view of the city square. \"Two!, One!\" the start of the new year flashed in her mind. \"Beautiful ghost you said?\" She turns and vanishes. The bellman peers over the city where the young woman once stood. 𝕁𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟙𝕤𝕥, is the day she wrote. A young woman who walks in power and a will to thrive. For someone like her will never die in time.