Standing at a junction in the middle of the road, in beat up jeans and braided sandals, she takes a sip from her jumbo cherry cola.
  Cloudless sky, rocky landscape, arid sand, skin cooking in the sun;
  "LET'S GO!" she screams at her feet. “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?”
  We smile back up at her, half-dazed, immobilized. Not today.
  Impatiently, she hurls her jumbo cola to the ground, and it tumbles to the ground, magnificently spilling over us and splashing up the edges of her jeans. “Fine. If you aren’t going to go, I will.”
  She inhales, and steps out of her body, outside of time. For a split-second, the world f ragm ents, twists, colours and shapes collapsing together; then rights itself once more. Cool, she whispers, the word wafting out of her mouth, floating up, up, up, and popping in the air.
  Before she leaves, she plants a quick kiss on her corporeal form, and we watch her dart away, extending her understanding infinitely, racing along an endless number of paths ahead.
  (meanwhile)
  She’s seen them all, been down every single road over and over before. Each is beautiful in its own right; each has its own pattern of discolorations and bruises. Some collect stars and smatter them across the sky like freckles, others dot their skies with trails of clouds. She holds everything in her palms, hunger burning along the lining of her ghostly stomach, and lifts them to her mouth.
  Without a body, most spill through her fingers thinly like sand. She forces some through her mouth, but those too, pour out of pores, draining away.
  (back to us)
  We wait, like we always do. And surely enough, she comes back to us in a whirlwind, extensions jumbled up and tangled together like the roots of a tumbleweed. Back so soon? She st ep s back into her body.
  “I’ve seen it all,” she proclaims. “I want you to sift through my memories and choose one that you like the best.”
  She stands in the junction in the road, fists planted firmly on hips, staring determinately at the roads ahead of us. Wind sweeps up the wisps of her hair, and tickles the nape of her chin. The cherry cola has dried. We look up at her.
  After a beat, she commands, “CHOOSE!”
  Through the sands she remains standing.