Meadowlark Morris had always had an active imagination. Growing up without any siblings and very little to keep herself entertained, an active imagination became a survival skill to just make it through the day. While most children shed their imaginary friends the moment they started formal schooling, Meadow held on tight to Mr. J.S. Clover. He was an oversized rabbit, with a top hat and monocle, naturally. sometimes? He was accompanied by a cast of characters to make all her thoughts come to life, but they were mostly forgetable. J.S. was the real draw. However, he and Meadow, inevitably, parted ways when she turned thirteen and discovered that she liked boys, and more often than not? Boys would not like you back if you still had an imaginary friend. In fact, boys would call you weird and keep their distance at the mere mention of talking to imaginary friends.

As she grew older, Meadow's active imagination took on a new facet: making up elaborate friendships with fictional characters. All the popular television shows of the early 2000's suddenly became incredibly important to the young girl. She'd be glued to the screen for hours catching up on the glamorous lives (or lack there of) of the teenagers on screen. She began talking back to them, or sometimes just talking out loud to herself, discussing the latest drama and how it could all be solved if they just listened to her. To the outsider, it was a sad interaction, but Meadow kept herself entertained and really, that was all that mattered. Once she started college, however, she quickly curbed the habit in favor of interacting with actual people, who listened to her opinions. However, much like the television characters did, those friends also ignored her usually brilliant solutions to avoid drama.

So, it did not come as much of a surprise to her when she heard a voice perk up in her mind when 12 AM rolled around on May 13th, following a searing pain that seemed to creep up suddenly. She had been hunched over for the past 45 minutes, thin paint brush in hand, brushing on the details to a fondant stargazer lily petal that had been recently cut. She had sent the rest of her staff home after closing, waving off their offers to help her finish any last minute Mother's Day orders. Insisting that she could handle it on her own, she pushed them out, locked the door, and disappeared into the back to continue working on her creations. Music quietly playing in the background, she blinked a few times and gave a shake of her head in an effort to clear the sudden pain, but it seemed like it was there to stay. Brush down on the countertop, she did a few quick stretches to offer relief to her aching muslces: a neck roll to release the pressure buidling between her shoulder blades, the flexing of her fingers that were threatening to stay cramped due to the tight hold she had on the brush.

"You should probably call it for the night. Hand cramps are the worst."

Without hestitation, Meadow shook her head and responded, "I have to finish these orders up before the morning and they're not going to finish themselves."

"You'd get so much more done if you had telekinesis. I'm telekinetic, you know."

The comment caught Meadow off guard and she was now paying attention to the voice, and the accompanying pain radiating from her headache. Who had said that. Hell, had anyone said it? Glancing down at the apple watch around her wrist, the caught sight of the time '12:10 AM'. Eyes burning from exhaustion, she chalked it up to being tired. Another flash of pain caused the redhead to squeeze her eyes shut in order to temporarily alleviate. The action was met with a little laugh.

"Sorry, I dont think that's going to make it go away. Also, sorry. Pretty sure I'm the reason why you're feeling it."

Meadow was on her feet now, pacing across the floor and trying to figure out how this was happening. This didn't feel like any other times she had spent talking to herself. Instead of feeling like one entity, there seemed to be two. Ducking into the restroom, she splashed some water onto her face and hoped that the liquid would assist in making things better. It didn't. Wiping the remaining water from her cheeks, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Slowly, a twitch of a smile pulled at her lips and while she attempted to stop it, she couldn't.

"Hello, Megan!"

"No, I'm Meadow."

"No, I know you are, silly. I'm Megan! Well, M'gann, but everyone calls me Megan."