She steps out of a limousine onto the red carpet. Cameras flash all around her and people shout her name, hoping to get her attention. Her peers applaud as she makes her way into the theatre. She smiles and poses and thinks, "I am adored."
The giant doors open at her arrival and she enters the palace. Royalty and heads of state are there to greet her. Servants scurry about to take her wrap and hand her a champagne flute. The room is full of some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the world and they are here in her honor. She smiles and nods and thinks, "I am respected."
The explosion hit as she was leaving her home. It blew her into the street. She wakes up to flashing cameras and people crowding around her. She smiles for them and tries to speak but her throat is full of smoke and ash. She lifts up a little and beckons one of the photographers closer, steadying herself on his arm and manages to whisper hoarsely, "Please, some water?" The photographer shakes her hand off, straightens and continues to take pictures. She looks around her, at the hungry faces of the photographers and the eagerness of the crowd as they clamour for a closer look at her. She rests her head on the sidewalk, closes her eyes and realizes, "I am alone."