Liz can't remember when she stopped feeling. She can't remember when the emotions stopped being real, and just a mechanical, learned sort of thing.

    The others thinks she's the normal one. They don't know she writes 'Let me die, let me die, let me go' over and over again in her diary.

    She hasn't got a Michael to show her tiny bakeries with sour-sweet pastries, the electric violence in lightning or to simply curl around during the night.

    Her eyes are harder than Buffy's and you can read nothing in them. She fakes it well, paces the room, claims it closes in on her, makes her feel trapped, but in reality, she doesn't feel at all.

    Liz thinks no one knows, no one has noticed. She's wrong. Kyle knows. He knew from the moment he looked into her eyes.

    Liz might not have a Michael, but she does have a Kyle now. If she'll let him in.