The model walked down the runway with her mind somewhere far up in the clouds. What had she been doing that night? Where were all of these modeling opportunities leading her? She had been a professional model since the age of thirteen and was now at the hight of her game. Modeling opportunities had seemed to jump out at her regularly since she had first started. One evening in Monaco two weeks ago an old woman had walked directly up to her in the street, looked into her eyes, and began to cry.
A blink was all that hinted that this top flight model was thinking about anything else but the flow of fabric and the hug of her high heels as she clacked from backstage once more out in front of the cameras, the perfect model. Others dreamed of modeling opportunities like this one, but she couldn't remember caring much about modeling opportunities recently, and she couldn't remember anything about the day leading up to meeting that woman in the street, and afterwards she could barely remember her own name.
As a child all she ever thought about was being a model, and would chase down modeling opportunities regardless of location, regardless of how low the pay. Now the lights in her eyes barely registered as she pondered a youth of chasing modeling opportunities instead of chasing boys. As the cameras flashed she was still looking back into the gaze of the weeping woman on that crowded narrow street. Wondering why.
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