"There, I am not just a data entry clerk. I am not just plain Alice. I am Alexia, forgotten child of royalty."

Alexia looked into the mirror and finally approved of her look. She liked contrast of the burnt orange tunic over the lime green slim pants, matching shoes in a tote, yes, and the heavy jewelry, perfect. Not that it mattered what she wore. To go outside on an icy winter's day dressed to face the winds off Lake Michigan, no one would recognize you, the sweaters, coats, scarves, gloves, and hats obliterated all except that there was a moving body under a pile of clothes.

It had all taken too long, again, this feeble attempt at transformation. Now she had to run to catch the last train into the loop, and her daily slide into boredom.

Some of the older passenger cars were still used for the commuter line from the far south side of Chicago to The Loop. Standing, hanging on to a strap leaning over the wicker backed seats that were flipped when the train changed direction, she viewed the passing scene through steamed and frosted single pained windows that created a vignette of a dirty snow covered world. In the poverty of love Alexia felt was her life lived an imagination that ran on a parallel track sometimes overtaking her.

She was too young when her Mother died, but we are always too young for such a loss. They had been quite close and Alexia still went over all the books of folk tales they had shared, first by her mother reading to her and at the end Alexia reading to her Mother. She so wanted that world of magic castles and handsome princes.

Could a train ride through Siberia, possibly with more hardships that she now endured be a welcome adventure? What if this was that train? What if the man who just smiled at her was really a deposed Count with a hidden collection of rare art treasures he dared not expose in fear of his life? He needed a reliable contact to move these treasures so he could feed his family. Perhaps she could win his admiration then love by becoming that person. Of course the main person to win over was his mother, the rigid backed Countess who refused to believe they should live any differently now after the revolution.

Fortunately the commuter line terminus was in the main part of the city and Alexia could dream without missing her stop. The five block walk to her office building on Michigan Avenue was another ordeal punctuated by sound of traffic echoing in concrete canyons and steam; steam from bodies indicating they were still alive, from car exhausts and, leaking from building vents. Perhaps there was a secret passage through the fog into another world, what if she could just be someone else.

She arrived late as usual, only to be met by her boss who had warned Alexia about punctuality many times. Her boss was willing to give her every chance, but felt thwarted by Alexia's negative attitude. The boss had prepared to give her one more chance, but could not when Alexia threw a tantrum about being the one the boss always picked out to reprimand. She was terminated on the spot without severance benefits.

Suddenly Alexia's life was different, but not the different she wished for so much. She was out on the street. She no longer had a job or any means of alternate support. Rather than deal with the current situation, she thought she eyed the "Count" on the other side of the street. Rushing to cross over, he saw her, they had made eye contact. When she caught up to him and touched his sleeve, he pushed her away. She slipped on a patch of ice and fell into a puddle of wet snow.

The "Count" felt soiled by the contact. He was an accountant that preferred blue suits, white shirts, and striped ties. That girl from the train, the weirdly dressed one, the one so out of sync with reality that he had to smile at her inappropriate appearance. Why did she touch him? He ran off, trying to lose himself in the crowd. He was reminded of that other air head, his Mother who left him in daycare so she could take dancing lessons. People should be more like his ledgers, neat, orderly and proper. He had been an accountant for 20 years, never wishing, always performing his duties and, he was proud of that.

Alexia sat there stunned. One of the portals into her fantasy world had slammed shut in her face. A bag lady was the only other person who noticed Alexia's fall. No one else made eye contact. Dazed and sore, Alexia stated to cry. The bag lady who had almost forgotten she had a name came and helped Alexia get up and took her to sit on the grate where she has her home, the exhaust from the building made it almost comfortable. The old woman sensed something familiar about the girl; perhaps it was something about her being broken too.

Was I like her so long ago, thought the bag lady, when I lived in a nice warm house? She began babbling her story to Alexia, "I had a husband and a child, a boy, I think, but I wanted something else. When my husband died I had nothing at all. My son and I didn't get along. Even though I took lessons I never became a ballerina. I wanted to meet exciting people and have them throw bouquets at my feet, perhaps meet and marry a handsome prince who would whisk me away to his Dacha on the steppes. Now I live in this alley under a corrugated box over a grate. The young man who pushed you walks by here regularly. He looks a bit like my husband back when we first met. I often wonder if he is my son."

Alexia stared at the bag lady in shock. This then was the "Countess" and that rude man could be her son, the "count"? As her fantasies were chipped away one by one, for the first time in her life Alexia did not replace them. She saw that she had constructed a life made up of clouds and sand castles that neither fed nor clothed her, only took away from living a full life in the here and now.

Alexia and the bag lady helped each other up and hobbled down to the mission soup kitchen to warm up and have something to eat. Looking around Alexia saw both young and old people, all with blank faces, staring. One of the staff noticed that Alexia looked alive and began a conversation. When it was his rotation behind the counter dishing out soup, she joined him.