She was riding a large white steed, running wild through the forest. She could hear the soft thuds of the hooves hitting the soil beneath it. Its breath, rythmic to the hoofbeats, blew mistly past, sounding strong and masculine. The barrel moved back and forth, her body rocking with the movement.

She was exhilerated as the wind whipped through her hair in a torrent. She could smell the earth and the green, and the growing scent of the world around her, strong and fragrant. She could smell the animal scent of the horse, wild and musky.

In the distance, she heard another rider, far off at first, but gaining the distance quickly. Soon, he was right behind her. Her steed shot

off into the woods, with the follower close behind. She was slightly afraid, but excited as well.

The horses ran, their hooves in unison, the beats crackling like thunder as they leapt over fallen trees and stones. And now it was a race to find the one place in the middle of the woods. She was determined to find it first.

She could see it through the trees, coming closer and closer...

The alarm clock rang, loud and echoing in her ears. Reaching over, she turned it off angrily, looking at the time. It read 6:30 am. "You're lying," she grumbled as she rolled over to fully face it. "Stupid clock."

She grudgingly got out of the bed and stumbled into the shower. She always hated the morning shifts. Up late at night to be in early the next day for the breakfast crowd. But such was her life, and she was used to it, somewhat.

The water, not quite hot, sent a chill through her body, and she brought her arms in close to her as protection from the cold. It quickly warmed up and she enjoyed the peacful feeling of the water on her skin, pattering softly down to the drain on the floor. She washed her hair and lathered up her body, the bubbles tingling her skin. She enjoyed her morning's repreve, knowing that in just an hour or so, she would be thrust into the hecticness of the world, listening to people's wants and needs and hurrying to fulfill them.

She stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel tightly around her. She wrapped another around her hair and wlked into the bedroom. She grabbed the waitress uniform on her way, throwing it on the bed when she entered. She sighed as she thought about having to squeeze her body back into that horrible dress and be subjected to the many eyes that would see her, but she knew she really didn't have a choice. She rolled on some nylons and forced herself into the outfit, then went back into the bedroom where she let down her hair.

Walking into the bathroom to put her make-up on, her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror. She was often started by this identical image. Sometimes, Melany felt that the form of herself she saw rushing past in the cafe window was the real her. Ghost-like and faded, doomed to haunt the world for the rest of her existance.

Looking at herself now, her face was fresh and pink. Her hair hung down in long ewt blond strands down her back. Her blue eyes seemed bigger when her hair was like this. She blinked a few times at herself, then brushed her hair up into a bun. She touched her face slightly with some eyeliner and blush, then grabbed her aprtment keys with her jacket. She slipped into her shoes, then out onto the street outside.

Melany rushed down the stairs and walked on at a hurried pace. She knew she had time to spare, but the sooner she got there might make the difference by a tip or two.

She looked at herself in the reflections of the windows of the stores she walked past, stopping at one to fix the stray hairs that had escaped the tight confines of her bun. Looking past herself, she noticed a woman who had been looking at a fancy piece of artwork inside the store. The woman now scowled at her disapprovingly. Startled by this social rudeness, Melany shrugged innocently and rushed on to the cafe.

When she arrived and opened the door to the restaurant, she found herself suddenly assaulted by a loud din of conversation. Looking around the room, the morning crowd was in full swing. Pushing her way past chairs and people, she passed Stephannie, who was precariously balancing a tray of five plates over customers' heads as she skillfully dodged chairs, feet and other assorted objects on the floor. The waitress rolled her eyes as Melany approached her.

"Marge is out sick again today, so it's a blessed thing yer here," she said in her strong Southern accent. "The floor is packed, and you have the back station. Enjoy, hon!" Stephannie winked and weaved her way through the sea of conversation to the table patiently expecting her.

Melany stood alone in the center of the room, surrounded by a mass of tables, chairs and people, stunned. Then, as if on cue, she rushed to the breakroom, threw her things down on a nearby chair and hurried back out to the awaiting crowd.