I look down at my fortress. The newly-rebuilt walls. The gleaming metal protruding from the sniper towers. The moat, and the drawbridge. The main doors, long rusted shut.

All useless, for now. Protecting nothing more than an old dream.

I see her trying to scale one of the walls. Striving to gain purchase and pull herself just a little bit closer to her goal. Inch by inch, day by day, she's actually making progress. She's doing much better than I'd have ever expected. Most have given up by this point.

I don't know what she's expecting to find. Back when we used to talk about that sort of thing I never got the same answer twice. If I had to guess, I'd say that she just wants to share this haven I've constructed. To be safe for a while. For I am, if anything, safe. Good old safe and boring and reliable Dave.

So she climbs. Every now and then she falls into the moat. But she gets right back out, shakes herself off, and tries again. Stubborn. I like that. Foolish perhaps, but who am I to judge foolishness?

What will she find when (not if!) she makes it over that wall?

I think she'll be disappointed. My courtyard is bare except for one thing. A statue. Of a girl that isn't her. But that's not what will disappoint her, or surprise her. What will be a shock to her is what's not there. Who's not there.

She'll spend all this time and energy and still find herself alone. For I'm not there. I'm up here drifting.

I suppose that she'll look up eventually and catch a glimpse of me. Then she'll start working on a flying machine.

Stubborn. I like that.