(under construction) Growing up, Opia understood that her life would consist around the large house, and the small gas station just down the hill. Every morning, she would get up with her dad and go on down, making coffee and helping him out with everything that she could reach. Even at the age of nineteen, she understood that her life revolved around the small station, for so many relied on it, even if her father was no more. Each and every morning was the same thing, over and over again. It was all in her father's name, in her name, and she couldn't disappoint her father's ghost by giving it all up. And so, she would repeat the same thing over and over, suppressing her emotions and frustration with each and every morning that came her way. There was no trouble, no commotion that came her way. For people understood her importance. Every morning, that alarm would go off at four am; and every morning at four am, Opia would get up, get ready, and go into work. And yet, it all seemed to change with a connection of eyes on a night she was supposed to be asleep. Guess she won't need the alarm clock anymore.