The red lake stares at me unflinchingly. It mocks me, declaring that what was mine yesterday is not mine to keep anymore. As I bend over it, it forms a puddle. Stoically, I muse over my glorious days. Proud as I was, waving and flicking my own ruby jewels, never did I think that they would be stolen away so quickly and easily. I might get everything back but not my own jewels, I let myself indulge in wishful thinking. What does a woman wish for? I wish for something that's now impossible, well out of my reach. My own longing makes me aware of my own futility, my own rampant materialistic desire. But we are mere mortals, aren't we?