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Sarah.

She was Sarah. Sarah Whitaker, pronounced wit-uh-ker. She, and a few of the other faces, actually had more than a sort of first name.

Sarah was very different from the other faces there were before her. She took pills to mask the dreams of the others, never wore a smile on her face, but could make anyone laugh or smile themselves. She was an odd girl, she had been living on her own since she was sixteen, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

She was twenty when she died. The police report said she fell from her window, the note beneath her bed said she jumped. They never checked so it was dubbed as an accident. 

Sarah had two friends. Bigby, a goldfish that she had since she was fourteen, and Ronald, a red headed boy she saw once at a movie theater by himself. He did not like McDonald's. 

This face was a human. This face was sad. This face pushed away the other ones to feel like the only one. This face was one of Frank's favorites. Why? He's not sure, she simply is. If anyone asked, Noel was his least favorite. That guy had kind of been a dickhead. Frank wished he could forget Noel, but that would mean forgetting them all, and he didn't want to.

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