Sundown that time of day when a girl has to decide to either stick it out or high tail it out of town. Lorelei knew there was a reason her heart was a closed-fisted rose, a bee trapped buzzing at it’s center. But what did it mean to be as lonely as an abandoned house? Trapped in a ruin barefoot, martyr to rusted nails, dry rot splinters? Lorelei understood she was a prisoner in a prison without bars, the walls tumbling down, roof open to the purpling sky, the soft bruise of evening. Lorelei knew she must open, petal by petal, to whatever the night might offer, the new day. She must free herself and walk away, dress tattered, feet cut and bloodied.