Joey was a poor architect. Aloneness made a cavern open up inside her heart. She had filled the abyss with people and distractions, but sometimes, the floor caved in and she found another undefinable emptiness. It was hard to get up, to make plans, when the foundation insisted on crumbling. It was why she avoided talking about herself, because so few could understand that struggle. Those who did had their own rotting floorboards, obstacles, and lifelines to tiptoe upon. The only possible conversation between them happened in the eyes.