Zero TŠ‡†ƒ›‘ˆƒƒ—…Š‹ƒ—”ƒǯ•ˆ—‡”ƒŽ‹•†”‡ƒ”›ƒ†…Ž‘—†›ǡ entirely at odds with the girl my classmate had been. I imagine a great many tearful people are at her funeral, their numbers and tears proving her life meant •‘‡–Š‹‰Ǣ„—–ǯ‘–ƒ‘‰ –Š‡Ǥ†‹†ǯ–ƒ––‡†Š‡”™ƒ‡Žƒ•–‹‰Š–ǡ‡‹–Š‡”Ǥǯ˜‡•–ƒ›‡†Š‘‡–Š‡‡–‹”‡ time. One classmate in particular could have forced me to go, but I guess ǯŽ—…›•Š‡…ƒǯ–ǡ•‹…‡•Š‡ǯ•‘Ž‘‰‡”‹–Š‹•™‘”Ž†Ǥ‡‹–Š‡”›–‡ƒ…hers nor her parents possess the authority or the personal duty to ask me to …‘‡Ǥǯ˜‡„‡‡ƒ„Ž‡ƒ‡›‘™†‡…‹•‹‘ƒ†•–‹…–‘‹–Ǥ ‡‡‹‰ƒ•ǯ•–‹ŽŽ‹Š‹‰Š•…Š‘‘ŽǡŠƒ˜‡–‘‰‘–‘…Žƒ••™Š‡–Š‡”‘”‘– anyone asks me to. But she died during school break, leaving nothing to force me out of the house and into the gloomy weather. –ǯ•‘”‹‰ǡƒ†•‡‡„‘–Š›’ƒ”‡–•‘ˆˆ–‘™‘”Ǥ•…”‘—‰‡ –‘‰‡–Š‡”ƒŽ—…Š„‡ˆ‘”‡Š‘Ž‹‰—’‹›”‘‘Ǥˆ›‘—–Š‹ǯ•‡‡‹‰ solitude out of feelings of sadness or th‡‡’–‹‡••‘ˆŽ‘••ǡ›‘—ǯ”‡‹•–ƒ‡Ǥ ǯ˜‡ƒŽ™ƒ›•„‡‡–Š‡–›’‡–‘•–ƒ›‹›”‘‘ǡ—Ž‡••Šƒ†–‘‰‘–‘ school, or my former classmate dragged me out into the world. Š‡ǯŠ‡”‡ǡǯ‘•–Ž›”‡ƒ†‹‰„‘‘•Ǥ†‘ǯ–…ƒ”‡ˆ‘”•‡Žˆ-help or instructional stuffȄnovels are my escape of choice. I like to lie in bed with my head on my white pillow and read my books. Hardcovers are too heavy; I prefer pocket-sized paperbacks. Š‡„‘‘ǯ”‡ƒ†‹‰”‹‰Š–‘™‹•‘‡„‘””‘™‡†ˆ”‘Š‡”Ȅthe only book she treasured, as •Š‡™ƒ•‡˜‡”—…Š‘ˆƒ”‡ƒ†‡”Ǥ–ǯ•„‡‡•‹––‹‰‘ ›•Š‡Žˆˆ‘”ƒ™Š‹Ž‡‘™Ǥǯ†‹–‡†‡†–‘”‡ƒ†ƒ†”‡–—”‹–„‡ˆ‘”‡•Š‡†‹‡†ǡ but I was too late. …ƒǯ–…Šƒ‰‡–Šƒ–‘™Ǥˆ‹‰—”‡ǯŽŽ”‡–—”–Š‡„‘‘–‘Š‡”ˆƒ‹Ž›™Š‡ ǯˆ‹‹•Š‡†ǤǯŽŽŠ‘Ž†‘ˆˆ‘ paying my respects to her and her family until then. ›–Š‡–‹‡ˆ‹‹•Š–Š‡„‘‘ǡ‹–ǯ•‡˜‡‹‰Ǥ–•‘‡’‘‹–ǡ…Ž‘•‡†–Š‡ curtains and turned on my fluorescent ceiling light so I could still see. My phone rings, and only then do I notice the passage of time. The call is nothing important; just my mother. I ignore her. She calls a second time, and I ignore her again. The third time, I guess it must have something to do with dinner, so I flip open the phone and put it to my ear.