She was far too fragile for her own good. Not fragile like a flower, fragile like sharp glass. Not fragile like paper, fragile like a bomb. Every moment she was ticking, waiting for the moment to go off. She's like a bull and the people who try to help her a the matadors.

I watch as she isolates herself, walking off to the bridge. She stares down at the stream below her. I can't help but be mesmerized; I mean, Yu-Mi is calm for once.