• She stared at the mirror on the wall. Bags under her eyes. Skin pale as hell. Eyes watering. Mind wandering, pondering, leaving. Soul deserted. Brain fried at a length.
    Such was the state she was in as she woke up that morning; the horrible morning of the day of waiting. She extremely disliked waiting and she had an aversion to the word hate. Otherwise that would have been the word I would have chosen to tell her short story, but that would be disrespectful to her.
    So she moved sluggishly from a night of useless, restless sleep and tears. She took her tooth brush and began brushing her teeth. She was skipping breakfast this morning. She knew breakfast would distract her from her thoughts. She loved and loathed her thoughts and her brain as well as her emotions and heart.
    She had many reasons to love and detest them, but she it would be disrespectful of me to tell you. And even so, she was addicted to her thoughts and couldn’t have them cast aside for fear her heart would control her actions as oppose to thoughts. It would have been a terrible thing. After all, her family had no idea she despised them. If she were to bring a knife to her mother’s throat… Well, that would be terrible despite how good it might seem to her. So she kept focus on her depressing and addicting thought process.
    So on she went with her morning chores, all the while mourning her very existence. Her brother had to get up for school… She had to wake up her sister… Get dressed… Brush her hair… put on her frog earrings… gather her school things… watch for the bus… run out to the bus… get to school…
    She dreaded the sight she saw as she approached the doors… Her Social Studies teacher scared the hell out of her. He was nice and all, but…
    “Hi, Em!” the teacher greeted her. She muttered a hello and hurried past the man. He just was way too… peppy and… caring for her taste in a teacher. So she walked past the main office and into the cafeteria. Once again, she dreaded the sight she saw before her. Her so-called “friends” sat at the table. There was Daniel and Nick and T.J. but where were Paul and their daily hug? He was her only means of the language of physical touch that she had been grown to know and love, so where was he?
    The fact didn’t really disturb her that he wasn’t there, but today was the day she wanted a hug the most and she wanted it as soon as possible. She sighed as she sat down next to her friends, ignoring the muffins the lunch ladies brought out. She always had muffins on Friday, so immediately Dan turned to her, “What you aren’t going to get a muffin?” She shook her head sadly and dropped her bag on the floor.
    To her slight enjoyment, Paul randomly appeared with his pale skin and sunken eyes and whatnot. He smiled at her, “Hey, Emily. What’s up?” His usual greeting.
    She tried to smile, “Nothing much.” She leaned into him for a hug and he hugged her back. After a moment of not moving from the position, Paul felt uneasy.
    “Emily…?” he asked, “Could you let go now?” She shook her head. After a few seconds more, the cafeteria of students quieted and a man called out, “Eighth grade can go.” She let go and stood up wearily.
    “Are you okay, Emily?” Dan asked just as Paul began to open his mouth to ask the same question. She nodded sadly and went on with her day. Art class was boring, as usual. The kids tried to play poker, but the teacher refused. Improvisation class was just as boring. Some king of charades game. Science sucked and dragged on forever. Math class kept her busy and distracted from her train of thought, which was a good thing since when she entered the room she was on the verge of tears.
    Then recess: her next chance at physical contact with her almost-crush. She walked outside into the sun and glared at the bright sky. For once, the weather disagreed with her mood. She wondered how she even had the strength to open her eyes that morning. She then looked toward the shed where Paul was. She didn’t smile as he smiled at her.
    “What’s wrong?” Paul asked. She shrugged, not answering his question in any aspect of the meaning. All she did was pull him into a hug. This time she had enough control to let go when it was becoming awkward.
    Paul repeated, “What’s wrong?” She looked away, not looking anywhere near him. She was sure he saw the tears welling up in her eyes. “Are you okay?” he persisted.
    She finally choked out, “I’m fine.” After a minute of silence, she continued, “The weather is horrible, isn’t it?”
    Paul blinked surprised at her reaction to the weather, “I think its nice out.”
    “You have a right to your opinion, but so do I,” she replied evenly.
    “Fair enough,” Paul agreed. Another moment of silence. This time he pulled her into a hug. She hugged back fiercely. Tears streamed down her face steadily. Paul looked down at her shocked to hear a sob. He was again surprised to see tears on her face. She pulled away from him without another word and walked toward their Social Studies teacher. The teacher blinked at her when he saw her crying but as her lips moved, a crest-fallen look appeared on his face. He asked her a question and she nodded solemnly. The teacher walked Emily to the door of the school and they walked by Paul. Everyone stared at the teacher and student. The teacher followed Em inside.
    “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked seriously. Emily shook her head and made an attempt at smiling as she wiped tears away. “Can I bring you where you need to go?” Emily hesitated. She shook her head, her pathetic smile swept off her face, “And if anyone asks why I’m crying, feel free to tell them.” The teacher looked into her eyes for a minute understanding she wanted people to know but couldn’t say it one more time. She wanted him to explain to everyone.
    She left the teacher in the hallway, walking to the main office to call her mom to pick her up. At least she could call Paul and let him know why she left so abruptly. Her mom was there in minutes to pick her up. The car ride home was vacant of dialogue.

    So that weekend, Emily left home to go to a completely different state. She cried whenever she couldn’t hold it back. When she arrived, she didn’t- couldn’t- go to her father’s house. She had to see his parents. She had to.
    So her mom dropped her off at the large house that was too big for two people. She took a deep breath, the place she was at bringing back memories. She held back her tears and walked up to the door on the bright day so close to summer. She rang the bell.
    She wasn’t surprised to see the middle-aged woman who answered the door not smiling. It was painful to see her like that. She was always supposed to have a smile. Always. Emily didn’t smile either as she saw the woman. A very tall, man stood behind the unsmiling woman. He was wearing black. He wasn’t supposed to wear dark clothes. Never. Never. Yet he was. The world was turned upside down.
    “Mrs. Cz-“she began, but was cut off when the man shook his head to signal she didn’t have to speak. She hung her head.
    “Come in, Emily,” the woman invited her. Slowly, ever so slowly, Emily walked into the house with so many memories. She glanced at the couch where she often got into trouble, but quickly glanced away. “I’m glad you came,” the woman continued, “James would have wanted you to.” Emily visibly winced.
    “Please,” Em whispered, “Don’t say his name.” The rest of the visit was even more solemn. But what was worse was the next day. His funeral.