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Safrina woke to a combination of the radio alarm clock and the mild, non bothering snores of Alphonse, who was refusing to hear the obnoxious chatter of a prerecorded Howard Stern broadcast of the night before. Safrina had come out of a deep, wonderful dream. One part of her consciousness knew that she had to go to the factory, which she dreaded. I must be more intelligent than this. However, she needed funds to survive in the organized world that she was accustom to. The fuller, ripened part of her consciousness was trying desperately to either hold on to the thought of the dream, or if she could pull of a miraculous feat, slip right back in where she'd left off. In this other conscience, the world constituted a realm of exoticism, where the riches were shared by all the people. Everyone lived prosperously in much less preoccupation than her real, contemporary life. The work week was 20 hours. People performed job positions where they did a combination of what they enjoyed, and that which they were most capable of, which in many cases were one in the same. The back stabbing, egalitarian lacking, rat race was practically non existent. People preferred to be open toward each other. They seemed to live with the 'What You See Is What You Get Philosophy'. This meant that their was no need to hide things from others. People had the freedom to live their lives free of judgment. People weren't preoccupied in others lives like in the factory. This is where Safrina would have to get up and go, and listen to everyone spread gossip, like amoebas dwelling in large intestines, and reproducing viciously. Why does life have to be this way? Why can't people just accept others for what they are and focus on their own lives opposed to the lives of others? In the dream, society did not revolve around status and being hip or cool. It was simply revolved around being true to oneself, hence in turn, lacking falseness toward others. And then there was the monotony of the factory, 50 hours per week. It was amazing that her brain still absorbed things like a sponge, opposed to the others, who's cerebrums appeared to be deteriorating from performing just three functions only, constantly and consistently. Pick up the compact disc sleeve, turn it over, and line it up with the printing press, and become a candidate for mental illness and sorrow. She had only been there eight months. Eight more and I'll be like them, 'Television gossip heads'. For example, her work companion, Stella, had her VCR set to record her three favorite soap operas each day. Stella would get through the working day by thinking intricately about each soap opera. This occupied her mind for eight to ten work hours during each work day. Upon returning from work, Stella would watch each soap opera twice, so as not to miss anything that occurred. In addition, she was almost convinced that these characters were real. Safrina believed that Stella's obsessive compulsive behavior was partly due to a psychological concept entitled monotony overload. Stella had worked at the Vanity records factory for just over five years. Upon starting, Stella was an attractive 18 year old, fresh and lively and ready to take a great big chunk out of the earth she lived on. But now she was not attractive. She'd gained roughly 70 pounds since she'd started at Vanity. Her lost beauty was also due to a deteriorating self-concept. Her ugly inner being transformed to her exterior. Just thinking about Stella made Safrina realize even more that she had to get out. Actually, when she flipped her first compact disc sleeve four months ago, she knew that she had to leave, but she got stuck, just like all the rest. However, in four months Alphonse would receive his Computer Science Degree. Alphonse would have to work, then Safrina could get the hell out of Vanity and pursue something challenging, interesting and enjoyable. She'd taken the job to support Alphonse through school. They had nothing, and lacked resources, with no one to turn to. But, with Safrina's steady paychecks, they'd managed to maintain an admirable standard of living. But this hell had to stop. What kind of slavery is this to be putting myself through, for him? And he seems to be taking my efforts for granted. Thinking dim thoughts, she was desperately trying to return to the dream after being woken up. Is this possible? Maybe not. But at the same token, she was able to focus on it. In the dream, people lived for the sheer sake of enjoyment. Competition existed on a much lower scale in the dream world. As she was leaving the bed, on the way to the coffee maker, this subconscious fantasy sparked an intuition, maybe there existed something similar to this, somewhere. This lucid dream would change her life. As Alphonse awoke from his half sleep, Safrina was getting dressed, he was glaring at her beautiful figure, including her full, ripe breasts. But as he gazed over at the clock, he realized that there would be no time for sex. Because as usual, Safrina rose from bed just in time to make it to the slave pit. She'd arrive at the huge factory just as the buzzer signaling that it was time to start flipping CD sleeves started buzzing. It was basically like something out of a slave labor camp, except for the fact that she received compensation and benefits. Thus, he'd be glad when she left, he'd then be free to slip back into unconsciousness. This is what Alphonse would do, although, Safrina was under the impression that he studied really hard every morning. He'd claimed his major was rigorous, hence, he didn't have time to work. "Have a nice day honey." "Have a nice day, do you have any idea what kind of shit I do at work?" "Come on babe, it's easy money, you should consider yourself fortunate." "Fortunate, who the fuck is the fortunate one here? Who the fuck is the one slaving every day, and dwindling to shit?" Alphonse was shocked, she'd never acted this way in the morning, neither of them had any idea that this rage would turn out to have large consequences on this miserable work day. On her way to work, she thought, That fucking bastard, who the fuck is he to tell me it's easy money, and I should consider myself fortunate? Work was a 20 minute walk from their suburban mini apartment. On the way, men would usually gawk and smile at her invitingly. But today was different. They'd fear her disturbed scowl. Hence, they kept their distance. Today, she didn't appear attractive, or ugly, but something mad and scary, something to fear. Safrina couldn't remember the last time she was this upset. She started wondering how in hell she could go to the factory and flip CD covers today, or any day for that matter. How in hell did I ever get myself into this? What happened to my ideals or respect for myself? At this point in time, she lacked any dignity she had ever known. Safrina arrived a measly two minutes past the first siren of the day. Due to this fact, Eddie, the proud foreman, who wore a blue hat that contained an American flag, not to mention the American flag tattoo that covered his back, was a stickler. "Safrina, did I tell to be late for work today? I should dock you one hours pay, or write you up, or make life hard on you. But I don't have to, what do you say? I'll even give you $100 for some comfort." They were in an obtrusive area on the large CD sleeve factory floor. He approached her closer and started to caress her behind. What Eddie didn't realize is that this was the only day he wouldn't get away with this. Safrina's angst elevated beyond a conscious frame of mind. Eddie appeared clueless to the fact that he was making the biggest mistake of his life. She was not in a conscious state, for everything she'd experienced on this day, since her lucid dream, caused her to experience an anger blackout. Eddie's childish bribery, followed by his ludicrous advances, caused Safrina to lose any inkling of awareness she may have had. Freakishly, she picked up a blank CD printing press. It weighed about 80 pounds. With a 'One-swipe-maneuver' of grid iron to Eddie's head, she'd immediately gained all coherence of a traditional state of mind. Eddie dropped to the floor, laying still. His eyes pressed wide open. Automatically, in a state of clear lucidity and rationality, Safrina dragged Eddie into his office. Luckily, she killed him right outside of the office. Eddie had been trying to lure her in there. After placing him neatly in his office closet and covering him with clothes and boxes, she quietly put the murder tool back in its' original location and went to work. The day was no different, except for the fact that Eddie was not there. However, no one cared to miss him. Rumor had it that he was out sick. This didn't bother anyone. At the end of the day, no one had found the body. Safrina went home. "Fuck off, go to hell, and find someone else to support you." She packed a bag and stormed out. The local bus station was her destiny. During her meager 30 minute lunch break that day, she'd visited the bank and withdrew $1,500 of the $2,500 in her account. She'd have to write off the $1,000 left in order to not make it obvious that she would be leaving town, hopefully never to come back. Surely if I don't move fast I'll be questioned, and arrested, or maybe they've already matched my fingerprints. Safrina believed that things always happened for a reason. Why did a scum like Eddie deserve to live? Perhaps this would lead her to something, maybe even something remotely like the dream which had occurred no more than 10 hours earlier. Luckily, fate had gone Safrina's way. The corpse wasn't found until the next day, when Lolita, an office worker, realized that nobody had seen or heard from Eddie that morning, nor had anyone actually taken a sick call from him. Lolita pondered, Eddie doesn't call in sick, he is far too dedicated a worker, besides, he's got no life outside of this place. She was about to find out that Eddie didn't have a life anywhere, literally. Lolita went into Eddie's office and noticed blood trickling from the closet. How could Safrina be so careless? Perhaps her negligence was due to her lacking any prior experience as a killer. The body was discovered as Safrina had entered Ciudad Juárez, just across the Mexican border from El Paso. She didn't speak Spanish, they didn't seem to speak English. She was now playing the role of an exile, in a foreign land that she knew nothing about. The immediate plan would be to keep travelling south, learn Spanish, and acclimate herself to this new, whimsical, life. The authorities quickly discovered that Safrina was not at work, that her fingerprints matched, that she'd stormed out on her boyfriend, and that she'd purchased a ticket to El Paso. At the same time, Safrina was visioning a similar scenario. Therefore she'd travel on buses, non stop, until she reached Guadalajara. She had no idea why, except for the fact that it was further away. The trip to Guadalajara was grueling. She sat on hot busses for a day and a half. She appeared to be an average tourist, cruising aimlessly through Mexican terrain. Men would give her looks, lines and proposals. She didn't understand what they were saying. When they got pushy, she got angry. They weren't accustom to this. Fear of the unknown deterred them away. They were the least of her worries. All alone, Safrina pondered. Surely, Alphonse's telephone is bugged, but why call him anyway? He doesn't care about me. Guadalajara was a large, dry, mild city. She checked into a shanty motel and slept for two days. Safrina then left her motel and ventured for a cup of coffee, in an attempt to gather some thoughts. Maybe this whole thing is for the best. What else would have gotten me out of the factory so fast. Besides, nothing could be more unbearable than that place, except maybe jail. I'd better get moving today.. While sipping on coffee, and pondering her new, capricious lifestyle, a seemingly well to do man decided he'd strike up a conversation with her. To him, she seemed non-Mexican, hence exotic. However, her identity was a mystery to him. Her big brown eyes had a faint of red mixed in. Her brown hair had natural streaks of gold, her skin tone was electrifying, it was a silky, reddish brown. This rare mix of Swedish, Spanish and Arabian made for a unique splendor. "¿De donde eres, el cielo?" "¿Hablas ingleis?" "Yes, where are you from, heaven?" "Hardly, more like hell." "Oh, what pessimism, especially from a girl as charming as yourself." "Why thank you, you're very nice." He was a wealthy Mexican man, who had been watching CNN just about 30 minutes earlier, in order to check the stock market, that is when he saw the report on Safrina, the murderess, the fugitive, in exile. They had called her all of these things. The news claimed that Safrina was on the run, and possibly dangerous. He was confused, She is astoundingly beautiful, it couldn't be. "Hi, my name is Diego, it's a pleasure to meet you." "I'm Safrina, and it's very nice to meet you." He appeared to possess class and integrity. He didn't seem dangerous like the others she had met on the way. But little did she know that the table had turned, she could now be perceived as potentially dangerous. Diego looked Safrina in the eye. She sure doesn't have the eyes of a killer, but those of a virtuous, kind and gentle woman. And she was beautiful, so exquisite that if even there was a remote chance of her being a killer, it would be worth finding out. Diego had never seen anyone that possessed beauty of this genre. And I just happened to run into her in a coffee shop here in Guadalajara. "Would you like me to show you around the city?" Well, if you'd like, you can escort me to the bus station." "Where are you going?" "Probably South." Safrina then thought, Surely he's not an FBI agent. They couldn't have caught up with me this fast. "How would you like to come over for dinner? Typical Mexican cuisine, do you like hot stuff?" This man is good looking, intelligent, and seems to carry at least a hint of purity. "Sure, why not, that could be fun." Diego had a four car garage, the house was like a miniature mansion. He lived there alone. He had recently separated from his wife, and his teen aged kids were in boarding school. He was middle aged, in his early forties, and she was still a baby, just 22 years old, but now going on 30. The maid had prepared a delectable lunch. And they got to know each other. "So, why are you travelling alone in Mexico?. You don't seem like a backpacker." "Why? Should I seem like a backpacker?" "Well, I guess that doesn't matter. I saw your face on CNN this morning." She had no idea what to do or say. "You must have me mistaken." "I may believe you but I've never seen anyone who looks as dazzling as you, what made me watch was your ravishing beauty." Thank you, but I've no idea what to say." "You could start by telling the truth, I'm only here to help." She told him everything. Luck had gone her way, Diego had everything she'd need. He had money, a hideout, good looks, intelligence, and very charming mannerisms. Safrina knew that she was truly a full fledged fugitive. But how can this be? Actually, she wasn't even a murderer, because the act was committed in self defense. Why didn't I just stay and confess? I'd have probably been set free. At this point she didn't need reasoning. She knew that if she returned home, they could consider her guilty solely due to the fact that she left. Therefore her only option was to make a life in this new world. Diego spoiled her with gifts, a very prominent life style and tender loving care. Everything happens for a reason. Diego returned home one day with a dozen, fresh, red roses. Inside were all her legal papers proclaiming a new identity. He even arranged for cosmetic surgery, and a new US passport as well. The man was well to do. He'd transformed her from exile, to Queen, instantaneously. In Mexico, those with money can do practically anything. This is due to the fact that virtually anything can be bought. Safrina had the option to return to the states, or stay with Diego. Wow, what a bizarre flux in my life, I'm a new person. What's the difference if I stay here or go? Either way I have to be in a new place, with a new life, be it in the states or in Mexico. And she genuinely felt in love with Diego. The man had given her the biggest break she'd ever needed. He more than likely saved her from spending her life in prison. And he was wonderful. And now her Spanish was coming along, and she'd start school in the fall. Safrina would study pre-med. Now life had changed, she had someone that cared for her, opposed to one who took advantage. And life was now an education, something she was doing for herself, opposed to slaving away for a compassionless, greedy, record company, which largely deprived it's workers of possessing any integrity whatsoever. Everything happens for a reason.