You never really know a girl until you talk to her four in the morning. All day she masks behind books, make up, pretty clothes, an attitude, and the fakest of smiles. But in the darkest parts of the night and the earliest parts of the morning, she breaks from her shell and opens her heart. The beat changes, her voices’ medley trembles, her eyes bat away tears. You never really know a girl until you speak to her soul, four in the morning.