A room full of doors, behind each door a different scene. All with one constant.
She sat cuddled in the arms of the man with the pale, shaven head. They kissed lightly, talked sweetly, made plans for a family and a house in the country.
Behind the next door, the wavy-haired man stood by the window. She sat in a chair far from him. They looked not at each other, but into their own thoughts, trying to discern the next best step after the harsh words.
Now she was half naked, her head tilted back, a pleasurable sigh on her lips. And the dark-haired, orange-eyed man clutched her fiercely, his face pressed between her breasts.
The fourth door opened to find her seated on the floor at the feet of the sleek-haired man. Her arms curled around his leg, and he stroked her hair as he would stroke the fur of an obedient dog.
And behind the last door, the black-haired man with the crystal blue eyes reached out for her. She was turning away.
Every door opened on a different room within the same house. Every scene was a different life within the same lifetime. Each man's life was touched by her, each man changed - for better or worse - by her. Slowly, she closed each door and burned down the house.