scott adams. here. ashley black. here. melinda boucher. *silence* melinda boucher... *silence* but i was sitting in my seat. i was staring out the window. i was watching the grass green and the dandelions blossom. i was dreaming of life and death and loss of dreams. i could hear my name being called... but i could not muster the word "here". my voice could not bare to scratch out the single syllable. my eyes were heavy. my heart was heavy. my head could hardly hold it's own weight. i could hear my name, far off in the distance, beneath the water, beyond the clouds, behind the closed locked door. i couldn't muster the words, i couldn't look away from the green beyond myself, the green beyond the gray. i did not care of the check by my name. i must have seemed invisible. no one else spoke up in my place. i was fading. it was happening faster than i expected, faster than before. i was fading into a shadow, a hologram, a whisper in the wind. i cried. i wondered if i would stay this way. i wondered if he looked up, if he tried, if he studied, i wondered if then he could see me. if the color would return. i wondered if he could hear my heart breaking. i wondered if he could feel my pain. his eyes drifted slowly upward and in my direction... i could feel him look through me, as if i did not exist. my eyes turned downward as a tear hit hot against my cheek. pencil struck the paper in a swift check mark. absent.
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