SHE HAD FALLEN ILL and was very disorganized with her life. Her illness was her downfall, literally. She died because she refused to undergo any kind of treatment. An unexpected death, yet planned at the same time. Her plan of making no plans, of doing nothing about it; led her to such an extreme. She had neighbors who never once visited her, but this morning precisely, they had not ceased to bother her. As if the call of death were sensed, reminding them to be attentive to the news of a misfortune.

     The misfortune wouldn't be too severe for any of them. It would not go beyond a feeling of sorrow that would fade away with the sunset.

     Her existence was the true embodiment of "not mattering to anyone," and not because she was despicable. Simply put, she didn't have close enough relationships with anyone, no matter how hard someone tried. She fled from that kind of closeness. She fled from her family, from her once-called friends, from all her acquaintances, and moved. In her new neighborhood, she had everything she always wanted... or, what she supposed she wanted.

     There, no one was close enough to disturb her or even cause her "personal" issues. And she died in that loneliness, without anyone realizing it. Without anyone checking on her to see if she was still breathing.

     In life, she never really felt sad, but she did felt desolate. Now that she was dead, now that she could sit in front of her body and watch it slowly deteriorate without life to keep it functional—at that moment she realized that no one had known her state, and much less had been concerned about her. It was then that she experienced in her literally empty chest a profound sadness without reason.

     Without logical reason for her. Wasn't that what she wanted? To be free to do what she wanted without anyone intervening and judging her, even if that "what she wanted" was to die?

     She felt a deep sadness pressing on her chest. It was clinging to her so much that she doubted it would ever leave her. She consoled herself thinking that at least there would be something that wouldn't abandon her and clung to it in such a way. Being sad was her new and crazy comfort, despite how painful it was, there was a certain stability in it that would keep her sane in death. Did that even matter? Wasn't she dead? What else was there to desire? Nothing made sense now, there was no such thing anymore. She realized that this mistake couldn't be corrected. Much less run from it.

     She curled up even more on the floor, not taking her eyes off her decomposing body with a vague hope that it would awaken. A very faint hope that it would open its eyes once more and end the nightmare she was in, and clung to so much.

     How is it possible that in life she hadn't felt such a thing? Her life was a huge void that grew with each day she lived carrying that void within her. Why is it that in death she finally could feel? Even if what she felt was sadness and regret...

     She had been able to feel something.

     She closed her eyes, but opened them instantly with more force, never ceasing to contemplate the body that still laid before her, taking it as her punishment for neglecting herself so much and for letting things go so far.

     "Hello?"

     She heard a call at her door, followed by gentle knocks, which grew stronger with each call.

     "Hello?" She heard again. 

     The voice belonged to an old man. His multiple calls were ignored by the existing body, yet not. He waited and called one more time before giving up and taking his little daughter—who was accompanying him—by the hand. They returned home, and he informed his wife that no one had answered despite his insistence.

     "What a spoiled girl," grumbled the lady, who was simply trying to be a good neighbor after so long. In all her life, she had never woken up with such a need to cook extra food to share with the few neighbors in the neighborhood. Perhaps it was a premonition that something was wrong in that house.

     "How can she just ignore anyone who knocks on her door? That's not right."

     She decided to go by herself. If necessary, she would even bring along a whole army to force her to open the door so she could eat the pot of soup she had prepared.