How are the winners determined from the losers? Easy. Whoever gave in first.

And if no one gives in?

Giving in is often easier. But not the desirable choice.

Taylor tapped the glass coated floor. The tiny black droplet that bloomed on her forefinger fell with a soft plink on a tatsulok of glass below.

Taylor cautiously lifted the shard to the light. There it was. A small stain, barely the size of a pinhead, darkening the glass.

That's all I am. Just a flaw on an otherwise clear surface.

Just a flaw. A mistake that was never meant to be.

"I'm leaving," Taylor muttered to herself, getting back to her feet. She strode towards the corner, vanishing just as soon as the shadow fell over to embrace her slight form.

She closed her eyes and felt the end of her plait, fumbling with it until wove free.

She knew where she was going, if only this once.

But when she got there? She hadn't thought that far.