The Writer stared off into the night, seeing only The Actress … her eyes, her smile, the joys and the sorrows she'd experienced, the person she'd been, the roles she'd played and the life she had become. Although she smiled a contented smile, in her eyes The Writer also saw the person behind the roles life had cast for The Actress. He saw the part she was born to play; the person she longed to be; the life she was destined to live.

The Writer desired with all his heart to set The Actress free, to help her to become that part she'd always wished to perform. He closed his eyes, still seeing her sweet smile, and a gentle melody of melancholy hope drifted through the night, washing over him.

The Writer awoke with a beautiful peacetopian dream in his heart. A smile almost formed upon his lips as he began to compose a script with, what he hoped would be, the perfect part for The Actress to play.

The Actress cried tears of joy when The Writer brought his gift. And when she performed the part he'd written for her, the audience was inspired and empowered and profoundly moved by the moments of passion she brought to life with his words.

When the curtain fell and The Actress and The Writer embraced, the lingering echo of laughter and tears and applause enveloped them in an endless moment of triumphant afterglow.

The Writer wanted to smile. But as he stared into her eyes, he knew, as magical as the moment had been, and despite her outward appearance of joy, that his gift wasn't enough; it was not all that he had hoped to give. The Writer knew his heart would not be able to rest until he'd created the perfect role The Actress longed to play.

Time and time again, The Writer presented The Actress with new scripts. Each time her performance was more magical than the last. Each time the world became much brighter and more hopeful than it had been before.

But The Writer's heart became more heavy and restless; more filled with aching and longing. His obsession blinded him from being able to see anything inside The Actress's eyes, except the sadness in the reflection of his own.

As The Writer's eyes welled with the tears of his failure, The Actress softly laughed and drew him closer. "Silly dreamer," she whispered. "This is the life I've always longed to live…" They embraced, and as he gazed into her eyes, he saw that it was so.

At last he smiled.