I walk down the hall. There's a hutch with trophies in it, all of them made of gold or silver. The floor is wooden, stained oak. Stairs are ahead of me and my friend stands at the bottom. I try to smile, but my lips get stuck at a grimace. She looks up at me, her green eyes wide, and shakes her head, eyelids falling to half down her eyes. The disappointment slaps me in the face and even as I awake I swear I can feel a burning pinkness on my cheek, festering and screaming, "Why?".