There once was a little girl. There once was a little girl who lived in a hotel in the middle of the ocean.

And it was beautiful. She'd follow the staff around, amazed at how quickly they could flip a room once someone

checked out.

She enjoyed how crisp the linens were as they went on to the bed.

She tried her best to make little animals out of the hand towels that they leave on the pillows,

a small favor that always delighted the guests.

She was terrible at it, but the staff encouraged her anyway.

They'd fixed it after she left. She knew it, and they knew it. But for a moment, she felt as if she could make anything she wanted.

Eventually, she'd get a little bit better at making animals out of things,

but she discovered that paper was much easier to bend to her will than a small towel.

She wouldn't figure that out for a few years though,

and she wasn't thinking about the future back then.

She was just a kid who knew the Transcontinental Hotel like the back of her hand,

who loved standing in the garden, watching the water lull by.

And when the sunset?

Well, nighttime was her favorite part of the day.

If no one was using the ballroom, she'd sneak up there while everyone else was asleep

and just sit there, right in the middle of that massive room, taking in the stars.

And the only thing that separated her from them floor to ceiling glass windows

sometimes moonlight would shine through

and she'd swear that the empty room would come to life

she wasn't alone

...