6:00 - I have been up for twenty minutes: brushed my long, knotted hair into its best state of disarray and thrown on a pair of black flare jeans and a black tee with a dog's face on it. Subtle mourning, I call it, because no one could notice that I was wearing all black. It's something you might have worn on a normal Monday, for school, homework, dinner, and class.
7:00 - The printer broke and I am racing to catch the train and speed towards the day ahead, despite my static inertia begging me to stay at home. My nose and throat are crinkly-clogged and my ears are making the sound muffled, like I am underwater, but that is not an excuse for missing what very well might be the day we learn a crucial point, or harsh reality. (Check that off.)
8:00 - The day about to begin, I have arrived early to class to see my friend S, who has been sick for so long some people wondered if she was dead. She wasn't wearing her glasses, so I can't imagine she could even tell what kind of dog face was on my shirt. Maybe she just saw the color black. Hmm... I guess sometimes seeing less can make you understand more.
9:00 - I am frantically searching my backpack for my Social Studies homework, with help from faithful K5. She rustles through piles of papers while I sort the ones she's gone through. A twisted system, but she is more thorough than I, and I cannot bear to face another death today (that of my grade). Finally, I dig it out from under a random plastic bag in the bottom of the compartment. One saved, at least.
10:00 - I have told K5. "Subtle mourning." She knows. She should know after she watched me throw a desk onto the floor on Friday. A silent hug and her shoulder as a blotter and the few tears left to vanquish fade away.
Mourning; morning.
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