At night, when the sun has already gone and the moon is masked by thick clouds, she runs out into the middle of the street. The puddles on the asphalt show hazy reflections of the traffic lights.

Rain is falling around her but she doesn't feel it. Either her nerves are shot or the drops are avoiding her.

The few cars on the road braving the rain stay out of her way, as if the drivers somehow know to give her a wide birth even though they don't see her.

She screams.

But she knows no one will hear her.