She had tied her newly blonde hair into a neat ponytail, and her makeup looked more polished than ever.
"I'm going hiking with my new friends," she said.
She paid no attention to the hushed whispers around her. No one knew how long she would have to stay hospitalized, but her illness was growing more severe with each passing day. She hadn't slept for several nights, and her face had grown thinner, yet she seemed more energetic and lively than anyone else.
She wasn't going to the mountains. She was on her way to a psychiatric hospital.
She knew it, and she didn't. Part of her was lucid; another part had drifted into madness.
She kissed her little sister goodbye. The wave of worry had reached the child as well. Despite her sister's cheerful spirit, she felt anxious and unsettled.
With a lump in her throat, she asked,
"When will you come back?"
Stroking the girl's hair, she replied,
"I don't know. It depends on my new friends. But don't worry. Think of me whenever you look at the jasmine flowers in the yard. When they bloom, I'll be right there beside you."
