[There's a nasty voice in the back of her head that thinks it's too late for that. What's the point in talking when the path is already decided?

Manuela has never once in her life been a quitter. When she leaves something behind, it's of her own volition. She tries to quiet that cruel little voice, though it mostly ends up with her flopped on her back on the hardtop surface beside the pool.]

I don't know. What you dream of doing. What your perfect future looks like. What you'd use your wish for, like we're still gonna get those.