Amalia walked down the dark winter streets and shivered. It was a cold night for anyone to be wandering the streets, but she did it every night, and the cold was refreshing. As she glanced around she recognized the squat little building with glass windows that seemed to be its only walls. It looked so empty now that the day was over, and had only a few dim lights on to fill the space. She paused and really looked into its cold grey halls and wondered if she was really seeing inside, or if it was just an illusion. She walked up to the glass windows and pressed her face against a pane. It was indeed real, but it seemed so empty and cold that it was surreal. As she pulled her face back she noticed her own reflection in the glistening glass, and caught the contrast between the empty gray halls and the chilled blush of her cheeks. They were polar opposites. But she recalled a time previous to this when she had paused on her walk to peer into the windows. Except, the first time it had been during the day, when people brought their rich array of color into the blank building as they bustled about. She had caught her reflection that time also, and then her face had seemed but a pale corpse compared to the bright interior.
Had it been just a trick of her mind? Or could it be true that she shone her brightest when she was not compared to the hues of other people?
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