[The Nemesis that's in the dark cloud doesn't look.]

[She leans against the counter and eats her cake.]

[It's such a casual pose, so completely at odds with the desperation of the pleas, that the discrepancy is jarring. The viewer is slamming his hands against the invisible barrier that separates them, now. The knuckles are bruised, and then split, and then bleeding - but if he pounds hard enough, maybe she'll hear. Please please please, why can't she hear?]