But what Theresa really wanted lately was for someone to build her a trans-continental, clear acrylic shelf to sit about sixteen feet off the soil. It would be a feat of modern engineering, and it would stretch from Alaska to New York City, down to the South, and cut a swath through the Midwestern states where her family lived. On this invisible shelf, invisible to the naked eye, she could sit and watch people and live in her own personal dream world (keeping a keen eye on the safety and well-being of her beautiful family) while not being a part of the real one below. She envisioned herself rolling over onto her elbows, alternatively looking up to the clouds and sky and then rolling back over onto her stomach to peer through the thick, clear shelf at the colors floating and shifting and swaying below. No one could see her as she stretched out and ignored the world for weeks at a time, and no one could see her when she finally looked back down again, and wept at all she’d missed.