The curtains open up. The scene is desolation, marred only by the debris of various brightly-colored storefronts, all advertising the ethnic diversity of the city. A cold sun barely manages to peek out past the foreboding layer of dark clouds. It shines a ray of light upon one very tiny pocket of the once-city, and briefly illuminates one hideously gaudy sign. "THE CITY'S FINEST THRIFT SHOP! INSANE LOW PRICES!" the sign declares, begging for attention amidst the other signs. An observer might have been able to see the hidden meaning behind the ray of light, calling it a ray of hope. That observer could not have been more wrong, as there is no meaning to a cold sun. None at all. It was by pure chance that the pile of clothes behind the sign became animated. It was by pure chance that the poltergeist inhabiting this place became bonded to this ordinary pile of clothing. It was by pure chance that it saw the picture of a beautiful woman inside the once-store.
The bright pink picture frame gently nestled the form of an outstandingly gorgeous woman. This perfect artifact of nature was posing ever so slightly, gazing at the camera with a light, cheerful air, sporting a twinkle in her eyes, and wearing a smile on her face that said "Laugh with me, my love! Embrace this wonderful day, my dear!" Hastily scrawled into the upper-right corner was the message - To the love of my life, the sun of my clouds - Jean. The poltergeist stared at this picture. It gave her life meaning. She felt an affinity with this woman, something unnatural yet so perfect. Could this be her? With a startling jolt, she became aware of her own body. Look at this squalor! This was not beautiful at all! She was nothing but a formless pile of clothing. Yet ... this was her body. She longed to be beautiful. Slowly, she learned to give clothing life, to allow it to rise up and assume the form of a beautiful woman, exactly like the one in the picture. Just then, she felt strangely at peace. Everything made sense now - She was that woman, Jean! She was just as beautiful as Jean, there is no reason why she couldn't simply be Jean. And so it was that she adopted that name, and her body changed to fit her name.
Day and night holds no bearing to her, as she has no concept of wasted time. With all the time in the world, what could she do? Through her various wanderings, she became obsessed with searching through ruins for the form of a woman just like herself. She amassed a wide collection of vanity magazines within her body, ranging from lofty makeup magazines to sultry pornographic magazines. Some magazines she looked upon with disdain, such as that trucker magazine with a butch woman on the front. She threw that one on the dusty ground, furious that a woman would be allowed to let her beauty become tarnished. Over time, though, her mind kept going back to this example of un-beauty, and she saw that even this woman was beautiful in her own way. With regret, she went back and picked up this magazine. She promised herself that, if she ever saw this woman, she would help her bring out her inner potential.
Two years passed, and with every passing month, Jean's clothes got more and more frayed and dirty. She tried her best to take care of them, but when you're alone, it's hard to care. It wasn't until a year after she was born that the throes of loneliness really set in. Her magazines of high fashion and glamour no longer served as adequate company. She let her shape sag, not really caring about her appearance. Now, all she wanted to do was to find somebody, and be with that person forever. To know that she would never have to be alone again. She would serve to make that woman as beautiful as she could, to make her into Jean, because she just couldn't be Jean anymore. She wasn't beautiful enough. She finally collapsed, her clothes settling in an untidy pile.