Harriet's feet found their way down the familiar streets, and she saw that in her blind frustration, she went as far as the local library. It sat on the block corner with nothing distinguishing about it other than some weathered bricks and arched windows hiding in between other buildings like a fox's den. But, Harriet liked it for many reasons, firstly being its ideal location far from Pendleson, but mostly because she liked any place where she stood next to thousands of books. They were more comforting than people; they never once stole her heart or her family, and never died like everyone else she got close to.

When she came through the main doors, her hair was pulled back by the wind of the street. Inside it relaxed on her shoulders, hiding her pale and tense face. Harriet fumbled in her pocket and put on Harrison's ring; it was bulky on a girl's finger, so she moved it to her thumb.

Without a glance around her, Harriet made a beeline for her favorite aisle, stroking the old spines before she got to a window seat that overlooked Connecticut. Her fingers arched as Harriet touched the glass, almost willing herself to fall through.

Below were normal people. All that humanity that got to touch each other. Everyone who was part of a web, connected to everyone by seven degrees except Harriet, who would never and could never do anything right.

Harriet reached in her pocket, pulled out the black pull string purse, and pressed it to her chin.

It was the last thing she saw before it happened.