There once was a girl who wanted everything, but not how to get it. She saw that other people had wonderful possessions and that they would share, but when she reached for these gifts she was wearing great clumsy metal gauntlets so that she could not feel what she touched and when she grasped what she wanted she broke it. So she began to believe that she did not deserve what she wanted because she had put on the gauntlets and did not want to take them off because she had had them as long as she could remember and did not want to lose what had been part of her for so long. And when she wanted to go somewhere she had great spiked metal sollerets that tore up the ground everywhere except home where she knew where to put her feet so that it happened seldom she would step on something and break it. But they kept her feet safe. And when she wanted to see something she had to lift the visor of her helmet, fumbling with the clumsy metal gauntlet, and peer out at the world through a metal cage. And the longer she wore this armor, the more it became rusted and harder to take off when occasionally she tried. But she was used to the size of her prison and knew how to live in it and she was afraid that she could not live in the world if she got out into it, like a snail pulled from its shell. So she contented herself with getting out in dreams, because she could forget them when she awakened. And all the while it was easier to do nothing. So she did nothing more and more. And one day the armor rusted away and there was nothing inside. The End.