She sits there chewing her nails and says nervously; "I think I have grown up, y'know. I can no longer like, mould the clouds into anything. Grown ups don't do those stuff, see". I nod out of courtesy when I don't have time for her borrowed philosophy. For some reason, the only things in my mind were Salinger, the word 'transient', the jukebox and how earnest she looks under the light.