Pretty girl in a pretty dress; in her room a gift of butterflies. Released into the air, they float around her; rock stars of the insect world. Live fast. Die Young. Stay beautiful.

She watches with childlike wonder as they dance above her, their wings twinkling in the light. One sets on her outstretched finger, feint trails of dust falling from it's wings. Even as it floats, triumphant and adored, it is disintegrating. Each flutter of its delicate wings brings it closer to its inevitable doom.

In a way she envies the creature. So beautiful. So tragic. But free.