She has been waiting so long for this day to come. When she awakes Wednesday morning, the sun shining through her open window, she practically bounces out of bed and into the shower. She washes her body, her hair, the luscious scent of her green apple shampoo wafting around the bathroom. She gets out, wrapped in her towel, and picks out her outfit for the day: the usual black slacks, a white silk top. She goes back into the bathroom and puts her blonde hair up into a chic chignon, applies her makeup. Ready to depart, she then slips into her burgundy leather jacket. Before she leaves, she makes sure to put on the last, the essential item, fashionably throwing the polyester fabric across one shoulder and wrapping it around her neck. As she walks out the door, she glances back at herself in the mirror, and smiles confidently. Little did she know that as the door shut, the corner of her scarf was trapped in the space between the wood, and this last irrelevant thing would be the death of her.