Night after night, the girl dreams of falling. Falling from planes, rooftops and clouds. She had been falling for so long she can't remember how she ever landed in one world, one city, one spot. She used to dream of punching. No one in particular. Just punching what was around in order to feel in control, but it always ended with a rubbery arm and misconnection. Now she can't stop falling. Sometimes she is awoken by a calloused hand, other times because she is holding her breath. She's never afraid. She's only concerned because doesn't she can't remember if she jumps because she wants to or because she has to.