People, [partial] Story

Macy stares at herself in the full length mirror, her choppy hair wet. She pulls a green hat over it, pouting.
There's too much to consider- the hair, the outfit, the facial expressions... So what if she pouts? Is it going to make the earth shudder and open up so that a giant fiery demon hand comes up and eats everything?
No.
So what is the problem? People relate pouts to unhappiness (they're right, she's unhappy. So what?) which they then try to find the origin of. Her striped school uniform suggests that she's had a privileged upbringing (they're right, she has, they think that's a guarantee for happiness?). Her shoes are unpolished, suggesting that she's a rebel. (She is, and proud).
THe unhappiness, therefore comes from an entirely selfish place that only exists in the first place because her poor parents have continually given her everything and ask for nothing in return.
WRONG.

Jason kicks his shoes off, flopping on to the bed with enthusiasm. Yes, he can muster strength and power when he wants to, and yes, he can find determination within himself to do something as challenging as aim the shoes in to the right slot.
But no, he can not be bothered with sport.
Sue him.

Clare sits cross legged in front of her jewellery box, her eyes closed lightly shut as she sways in time with the music. She doesn't have to look to know that the little plastic ballerina is spinning in time with the soft, scary melody, dancing even through the fear that ensues from the music.
She wonders about the ballerina- if she were real, what she'd say about her life, her outfit. Her hair. The devastating tune that just replays over and over.
However much Clare may be freaked out by the song, though, she still has to open the box every once in a while, still has to wind that twisty thing at the back.
Because even though the song is haunting, and the ballerina is cursed to dance the same dance for all eternity, at least she's dancing. At least she's alive.