If you chose me once, please choose me again

The atmosphere of a funeral is always the same for everyone: the same melancholy, the gray atmosphere, the air, somehow, heavy. I've been to a few funerals in my life; the earliest one I remember was a neighbor who died in a car accident when I was 5 years old. Then there was Aunt Benny's, who died of a heart attack; she was always a sweet and kind woman, didn't deserve to die, I was 8 years old then. The last one I attended was my rabbit's, Bubblegum's; I loved him. Levi was with me; we were both 10 years old and we took care of him as if he were our child. When we buried him, both Levi and I cried a lot; it was one of the worst days of our lives. We buried him in the backyard of our houses on the farm, where Levi's family and mine owned property. We refrained from speaking the words "rabbit," "death," and "burial" for a year.

Now, I find myself at the fourth funeral of my life: my grandfather Charles'. We arrived at the funeral location, a sort of funeral home. From the outside, it looks like a large church, with glass on all sides. The interior decoration is minimalistic, but with a cozy atmosphere, except for the fact that there is a coffin in the middle of the room.

I see people I haven't seen in about 10 years; my great-uncle Duncan hasn't changed much, except for his hair, which used to be a golden blonde, now grayish. His resemblance to my grandfather Charles is impressive. When they were younger, everyone thought they were twins because they were the same height, had the same features, and the same hair color. In addition to my uncle Duncan, his sister, who is also my grandfather's sister, Aunt Justine, came. She has always been impeccably elegant, always wearing tailor-made outfits. Her hair was always well-blonded and styled, miraculously not giving in to the gray malice of time. My father's sisters, my aunts Mariane and Margareth, who, unlike my father, are very caring and loving towards their children.

Aunt Mariane has 2 children, my cousins Julian and Jaden, who are about 5 years younger than me. Aunt Margareth, on the other hand, has 3 children, Robert, Beau, and Felicia; Robert is the same age as Sean, both 29 years old; Beau is the same age as me, we were born with a 5-month difference, with me being 5 months older. Felicia is the youngest of my grandparents, only 5 years old.

Both Uncle Duncan and Aunt Justine came with their partners; Uncle Duncan with his wife, Aunt Molly. She is Irish, and they met when he took a trip to Galway. According to him, it was love at first sight. Together they have 1 son, my second cousin, Edward; who stands out exceptionally for his height, being the tallest in the room. I presume he is 6'11"; he is very tall. Aunt Justine is married to Hans, a German she met when she was studying abroad in Berlin; they have 3 children, my second cousins, Ada, Isabell, and Jules. Ada and Isabell are twins, 3 years younger than Sean. Jules is the same age as Aaron, 19 years old. In addition to them, there are many other family members present, including my grandfather's cousins, great-grandchildren, acquaintances, friends...

The whole atmosphere is enveloped in sadness; Charles was a very pleasant person to everyone, both those he knew and those he didn't; his philosophy of life was: "Kindness is internally abundant, so if the world is so hateful, why not distribute it a little?". He was a very wise man, and I carry many of his words with me. People who didn't know him well were now crying like children who had lost their toy, next to his coffin.

As soon as his body arrived, the silence that was once absurd became unbearable. I was one of the first people to stand by his coffin and observe his lifeless and cold body. I have a serious difficulty in assimilating facts; now seeing my grandfather lifeless, I try to remember how he was. Always very smiling, his demeanor was the most comforting that could be found; he was never shaken by anything. He was the refuge of those who needed it the most — I sought refuge in him —. I didn't see my grandfather in that lifeless and apathetic body; it wasn't him, it never was.

In addition to all the sadness permeating the atmosphere, one thing, in particular, saddened me even more: my grandmother Joane's. She was, like us — or worse —, devastated, very devastated. Her face expressed sadness, only sadness; it was as if happiness had never even touched her being.

My grandmother and grandfather were married for about 65 years; they were for each other, like the sky is for the stars. They were eternal faithful confidants — they still are and always will be. My grandfather always used to say, "Regardless of the plane, the place, the sky, the earth, we will find each other, we will be close. Because we are traveling souls who, regardless of the season, are always each other's destination" — So it won't be death that separates them, nor any other natural phenomenon.

They were together since the end of school, both at 18. They got married, formed a large family, the "Starstrock". They lived moments of pure happiness, made each other happier than they could; they enchanted the world, they enchanted each other; they transformed the world into a better place with their presence. They will always be an example of companionship and confidentiality. I hope very much that my grandmother finds some calm in the midst of this storm of sadness.

My father, who never shed a tear before, now dissolved in them. Since I arrived, I received only a "hi" from him when he came back from shopping with my mother; she, on the other hand, welcomed me with a long, warm, and cozy hug. Many times, I think she would be better off without him. He's not one of those anchors that help, but one of those that sink the whole ship.

The wake began around 1:30 AM, so the whole night was permeated with pure sadness. The hours of the day go by, and when I realize it, it's already 11:30 AM, and the fateful moment is knocking on the door, the time of the burial. This is one of the worst phases of the funeral situation; to know that even that lifeless body, which once was someone so important, now has to say goodbye to everyone forever. We are receptacles of something greater, I tell myself.

My grandfather's coffin is placed in the car that will take him to the cemetery; there are about 20 cars along the street, all those who attended the wake and will follow to the burial site. I came in my parents' car and also decided to follow the procession with them. Throughout the journey to the cemetery, the atmosphere inside the car was complete silence. I wonder if I shouldn't have gone in Aaron and his wife Ellie's car.

After a 10-minute journey that seemed to last for hours, we arrived at the cemetery. It is a flat and well-organized environment. All the gravestones lined up follow along a long green valley. At the far end, you can notice the structure they set up around his grave.

We walked about 657 ft until we reached the proper place. There are numerous chairs for all the attendees; I sit in the front row, next to Aaron and Ellie; I have a "privileged" view of the coffin and the place where my grandfather's body will spend eternity.

For a moment, I wonder if they can't bury me with him. Life is fatally sad. I just wish I could have, for one last time, the happiness I had when I was a child, when my grandfather was alive, happy, and by my side, when Levi was with me. I'm sure that if we were still together as good friends, he would be my legs, which are now almost giving out.

After a moment of waiting, the priest begins to speak some words and read some passages from the Bible. The situation is extremely delicate, so I think his words calm some people, but not me. Every second around those people and in this environment causes me anguish. My brain starts processing the information around me faster than I can handle. I begin to notice extremely random things, like the birds on a branch of a tree 100 ft away from me. My mind is going to collapse, I think to myself mentally, but already expecting the worst of me: "I'm going to jump into the grave and wait for them to throw dirt". "I'm going to freak out and start crying like crazy" ... My thoughts are the worst possible — it's one of the symptoms of my chronic mood variation — but before losing control, I just count to 3. 3, 2, 1... and everything passes — one of the doctors I used to see as a child taught me this technique; I don't know if it helps everyone, but it helps me —. There are no more a million thoughts in my mind, just peace, scary peace. I wonder if it's wrong to feel so peaceful in the situation I'm in.

As soon as the priest finishes his words, he invites anyone who wants to pay their last respects to Charles. My father, my uncle Duncan, Aunt Justine, and my brother Sean form a line, with my father at the front. I can feel the weight in his voice, the pain, which he has never shown to anyone before, is showing to everyone at this moment, as if there were no barriers between people and their personal feelings. His speech is brief but profound; in it, he describes how much he loves my grandfather and will always love him, and how the longing will be eternal... Right after my father, my uncle Duncan and Aunt Justine give their words, which are also brief and very moving.

My brother Sean comes right after them. As he positions himself to read his text, I notice that Sean is very worn out; from his expression, dark circles, wrinkled clothes, among other things that denote an abnormality in his being; Sean has always been very vain and neat, never letting a blond hair out of place, but now, that seemed not to fit the person he was. Sean and my grandfather were very close; it was with him that Sean learned to play baseball; Sean was very good at what he did but preferred soccer.

Sean wasn't very tall, like me, but he had a very athletic build; his arms were quite thick, like Aaron's, but Sean's were incomparable. His posture, which was always impeccable, now seemed slouched; he had deep dark circles that indicated long nights of crying. After he settled into the proper place, he begins:

— My dear grandfather, Charles Daanyel Starstrock — my name "Daany" comes from my grandfather's middle name, "Daanyel" —, you are the light that illuminated the world when it was plunged into darkness. You were more than all the feelings of the people gathered here for this fateful and sad occasion. It wasn't the kind of environment you would frequent, because it was life; it was more life than death could bear. I will always carry you in my memories and the marks you left on me, in our life... in the lives of your siblings, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I know that from now on it won't be easy; the days will stretch longer than usual, the nights will become cold and deep, the teas I used to have with you will now become cold and tasteless. The life that was once so full of everything will now feel emptier than today.

The words I leave here will not be able to express how much you are missed, and how much you will be missed. I want you to know that wherever you are, however you are, we will always remember you, we will always love you.

And I will always remember your words: "Life is not the worst of evils, just as death is not. The brief passage through here is, above all, a carousel of experiences and living. Where we will find refuge in the hearts and minds of those who love us". Love you, grandpa.

After Sean's words, he left where he was at a very high speed, trying in every way to hide his tears, which were now in a greater state than before. Sean's words moved everyone, just like me. Around me, countless people were in intense tears, so I wasn't any different; I cried, cried a lot, but restrained myself. Sean walked directly into the arms of his wife, Jolie, and now I notice how red her hair is. Back in high school, she tried hard to hide her copper-colored locks, always dyeing them brown or blonde. Next to Jolie and Sean, I can see the twins, Theo and Lysa. Theo is simply the spitting image of his mother, except for the fact that he has his father's blue eyes; the freckles were almost identical to his mother's; his short hair, perfectly cut in a bowl shape, reflected the reddish hue. Lysa, on the other hand, is a miniature version of Sean; her hair is long and very blonde, just like her father's; her eyes were of a sparkling blue, it was like seeing the sea within her gaze, just like Sean. When we were children, Aaron and I used to call Sean "Sea" because his gaze was the identical color of the sea. His daughter Lysa carried the memory of her father's sea in her eyes.

After everyone paid their respects to my grandfather, the dreadful moment arrived, the burial. Everyone gathers around the deep grave where the coffin will be buried; my father, my aunts, Mariane and Margareth, Sean and Aaron, scoop handfuls of dirt to throw once it's at the bottom. I seriously consider taking some to throw as well, but I don't.

After a few seconds, the gravedigger presses a button that causes the coffin to descend to the bottom; for a moment, I wonder if all of this is a dream; that I'll wake up being only 9 years old, and everything that happened was a dream. I blink my eyes three times forcefully to try to "wake up", but nothing happens; I'm in the same place, the same age, and in the same situation. About 1 minute later, the coffin is already at the bottom of its grave. Looking down into the depths, I feel a bit dizzy and decide to step back a little. They begin to throw the first clods of earth onto the coffin; first was Sean, who after throwing, walked away and headed for the exit, along with Jolie and the twins. After him, it was Aaron, who enveloped Ellie in his arms and they left. And so it went. Soon after, my father and my aunts, they all threw and headed for the exit.

All the people around the grave gradually left until only I remained, standing and hypnotized, looking at that hole that seemed to have no end. I could hear the sounds of car engines starting, and the sound of them fading into the horizon. Looking back, I see that no one was left, only the chairs and the part that shaded us from the sun. Unlike all the other wakes I've been to, today was a sunny day. It was one of those typical days when my grandfather would take my brothers and me fishing on the Tulyo River; we used to do that a lot when we were younger.

After standing there for a while, I didn't see how much time had passed. Sometimes, I lose track of time. The environment, everything around me becomes singular. It just exists, it's difficult to understand. But it's as if everything were everything and there was nothing different; time is the same as space, which is the same as leaves, the same as earth, the same as everything.

I notice a voice speaking to me; it was the gravedigger, and he says:

— Hey, kid. If you want to throw some dirt, do it quickly. I need to finish filling the hole.

The hole, the hole... It's not just a hole; my grandfather is in there, it's not just a hole. I restrain myself from responding rudely, but I don't, because I know he's just doing his job. So I simply nod.

I stand up and pick up a rose that I carried throughout the wake and burial; I toss it above the coffin and the little soil that lay upon it. You deserve more than a coffin, you deserve more than the earth they throw over you, you deserve more than all the roses in the world. Thank you for choosing me, my Charles, I say to myself and feel a tear run down my face. I hesitate a lot to turn and walk away from my grandfather, now buried more than 7 feet deep, but I do, and I head towards the cemetery exit.

Now outside, I think about where I can go. Could I go home? No, no. All my family, friends, and acquaintances of my grandfather will be there. I want some silence. I'm tired and hungry, but I resist the urge to go there.

With no destination in mind, I decide to just walk along the streets that appear before me. Explore Downcity, I tell myself. The street that passes in front of the cemetery is very calm, with several trees lining its path; following it, I come face to face with Judie Dove Avenue — Judie Dove was a great singer in the 70s; she was the first person from Downcity to gain worldwide fame. Everyone here salutes her. Today, at 77, she no longer lives here, if possible, she stays as far away as possible. But then again, who would stay here in Downcity, as the population decreases drastically every year. The houses, buildings, and monuments become older and more precarious — and I decide to follow it.

I'm aimless, just going wherever my legs lead me. I walk, walk, and walk, feeling a great heat, today is a hot day and I'm dressed all in black. I decide to take off the blazer I borrowed from Aaron; I had thought of going with just my black t-shirt and pants, but after seeing everyone in their "super elegante" and "super refined" attire, I changed my mind, I didn't want to look, or feel, out of place, so I decided to borrow a blazer from Aaron. He wears a lot of blazers, as he attends numerous lectures on medicine, clinical cases, complementary courses, etc...

I walk a few feet along Judie Dove Avenue until I'm at the edge of a bridge that crosses over the Tulyo River. I stand still watching the water, it's very clear, you can see the riverbed, I can notice the rocks, the sand, and also some fish. The Tulyo River is the postcard of Downcity, just like the old cathedral — according to some documents, the cathedral was built around 1811, so it's been 213 years since its existence — it's not very well maintained, only sometimes when parts of it are falling apart, they decide to give it a finish and small renovations, or when the people of the city revolt and ask the municipality to refurbish it.Parte superior do formulário

I stand by the river for about 5 minutes, then decide to continue on the path I was following. I reach the end of the bridge and encounter a fork in the road, one paved street and one dirt road. I decide to continue on the dirt road, it's not an unfamiliar path to me, so I follow it without fear.

After a few minutes of walking, I decide to put on the blazer, which was previously tied around my waist, over my head, as the sun was punishing anyone who dared to face it. I walk for a few minutes without noticing any signs of life or anyone living nearby. Downcity is a rural town, with about 30% of the population living in farm areas. As I walk a little further, I see a small white house with some blue details and a wide porch around it — by the way, this is a striking feature of the houses here, they all have porches; whether it's the most basic model or the most luxurious; porches of various shapes, whether only at the front or at the back, or all around the house —, I can see a couple, apparently two elderly people. The woman wears a long yellow dress with red embroidered flowers, while the man wears some sort of denim overalls and is shirtless. They both sit on rocking chairs, and I can see the affection they have for each other; they don't show any signs, no hugs, no kisses, just their presence together is enough to emanate that they love each other, love in its purest form, existence, just existing beside the one they love.

I walk a few more feet, leaving the small house behind. For a moment, I think that what I came looking for is no longer here, that time has erased everything, taken everything away, and that the only trace of what I'm looking for exists only in my memory; until I reach an intersection, and to the right, I find it. The two country houses that Levi's family and mine owned.

They are two large houses, both with two floors, white in color, with some details in pure wood. Both have long porches that surround the entire property. When we were younger and came to spend weekends here — it was customary for us to be here every weekend —, we always used to play, jumping from one porch to another, until Levi's father, Mr. Ernest LineMoon, decided to build a "bridge" between the porches, so that we wouldn't have to go around to reach each other.

My family had this house until about 4 years ago, when they decided to sell it. It was a gift from my maternal grandmother, Cristina Bennet — I would have liked to have my mother's maiden name, imagine, Daany Bennet Starstrock, it would sound better without the "Starstrock", but I think about it being my grandfather Charles's surname —. For many years, my parents lived here until they bought the house in the urban area of Downcity. They decided to move because Sean was born, and when he was younger, he had a lot of respiratory problems, and because of the dust, and also because the hospital was too far away, they decided to move. They kept the house just for leisure.

Levi's family didn't have a house next to ours, where it currently stands. Here is a kind of "mini-city", with houses on one side of the dirt road and houses on the other side, like a proper neighborhood. When Levi and I became friends, whenever possible, I asked his parents to bring him to our country house for the weekend. Over time, they came to know and fell in love with the location, and decided to buy the lot next to ours. That's why the model of the house is the same for both.

The neighborhood in this rural part used to be much busier and livelier, but now you can notice one or two families coming in or out; many people decided to sell their houses here and move out of Downcity for good. My family was one of those, but didn't move out of Downcity, just sold the property; I don't know if it was due to lack of money or because they didn't want it anymore.

Levi's family's property is uninhabited, but not neglected; you can see the long curtains covering the windows, and the paint is very new and well preserved. I believe they haven't sold the property. As for the house that once belonged to my family, it is completely abandoned and very, very dirty. There is a lot of dust all over the porch that surrounds the house, broken glass, and part of the front door is broken.

I walk around the property to find what I came for, as I walk along their side, I can see the places where Levi and I used to play and imagine ourselves in the craziest scenarios possible. Like the time we were "superheroes" and were going to jump off the roof with the help of an improvised "parachute" made from a bedsheet, but my mother arrived before and prevented the worst from happening.

I walk a few meters until I reach where I wanted to go, now I'm facing the back of the house. I can see the backs of all the houses from here, and the long green valley that stretches to the horizon. It's very beautiful here, the grass is a very vivid green, the trees well taken care of by nature. I can even see the tree where Levi and I used to play, rest, and sometimes set up tents to camp outside the houses. I can also see the improvised bridge that Levi's father made to connect the two houses; I still can't believe my parents sold the house, and the person who bought it couldn't care less about it; just by the state it's in i can draw my own conclusions.

A few feet from the porches, I crouch down on the ground and can see a small rectangle of stones, now, deeply embedded in the ground; the earth covers them completely. It was here, in this place, where we buried Jujuba. We made a small coffin with some small pieces of wood and popsicle sticks. Then, I dug the hole about 24 in deep, where we buried Bubblegum. After all the soil was thrown over him, Levi marked where his grave was with these stones. Now, seeing them after years, I can see that they were placed very well, because 11 years have passed since then, and they are still here.

My dear Bubblegum, today, after 11 years since your early departure, I come once again to visit you. Levi isn't here today, but I'm sure he loves you too. You were one of the most beautiful and good memories I had, along with Levi. I miss you. I leave a small mental dedication to Bubblegum and go under the tree at the back of the property.

I sit under it and can only pay attention to the silence here, except for the sound of the wind, which runs from one side to the other, carrying leaves, twigs, and sometimes changing the fate of the birds flying back and forth.

For a moment, several memories come to my mind; like the time Levi was very sick and still wanted to play — he fainted after 3 minutes of tag —; or the time we camped outside, and Sean and Aaron kept scaring us all night; or the worst of the worst memories, the time Levi and I fought. It was because of a toy car, where he claimed it was his, and I said it was mine. All I know is that the car split into two parts, both of them went inside with stern faces, and we didn't speak to each other for an incredible 15 minutes.

Memories... they are one of the greatest reliefs and refuges of our existence. I miss everything, living here in Downcity — even though I hate it, the nostalgia it brings me transports me to a universe where there is no pain, only happiness, sweet happiness —, living with my parents — even though they are completely neglectful and apathetic towards me —, the friendship with Levi, life before college, everything; not being who I am today.

I spend about 30 minutes under the tree, just thinking about all the good times I had here, and creating an unbeatable personal goal: to buy the house that once belonged to my family. I don't know who bought it or how much they paid for it, but considering its current condition, I believe the price isn't one of the most daunting.

Before leaving, I do something risky, I decide to enter the old house, the back door was glass, and now it's totally broken, with only a few shards around its frame, so it's easy to get in.

I enter, being very careful not to cut myself, as I wouldn't want to explain how and where I got cut, and also because the hospital is more than 10 miles away, and I don't want to be arrested by the police for trespassing. From inside the house, I can see that nothing has changed, everything is just as it always was, except that there's no furniture. On the first floor, there's the kitchen, which is combined with the dining room, right next to the stairs, there's the living room, which faces the front porch with a large glass door.

Heading up the stairs, I notice that they creak more than usual — when I buy this house, I promise I'll fix everything that's broken —. Arriving on the upper floor, I come face to face with the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Even though it's daytime, the hallway is very dark, and it's a bit scary to continue, but I don't let fear stop me. The order of the rooms is: the 1st on the left is Sean's, the 1st on the right is mine, the 2nd also on the right is Aaron's, and the last room at the end of the hallway belongs to my parents. I decide to only enter mine. As I struggle to open the door, it's a bit stuck, and I can smell the musty odor and something spoiled. I walk around the room, which doesn't seem to be as big — when I was younger, it seemed much larger —. I walk to the small window, which is the only source of light in the room, and I can see Levi's room window on the other side. He intentionally chose the room that overlooked mine, so we would spend hours talking, him from there and me from here. I miss those little moments when everything was lighter.

I bend down a bit to see something beneath the window, and to my surprise, it's there. A notch in the wooden wall, with the figures of two boys, representing Levi and me, and below the image are the initials: D and L, followed by the year: 2012. In a moment, my eyes, which were completely dry and showed no sign of tears, turned into a waterfall of tears.

I feel everything again, the emotions, the absence, the longing, the sadness, and deep down, way deep down, the last trace of happiness within me. It's the mix of emotion, I tell myself.

All these emotional crises I feel leave me totally helpless because they are sudden and throw me off balance; they are uncontrollable. I wonder if that's why my parents are like this with me, because I'm defective. I know nobody owes me anything, not attention, not affection, nothing; I just wish for once, even if it's for a short time, a bit of inclusion, to feel part of something; of a love, of a feeling, of a heart, anything.

I wipe my tears after 5 minutes, because this time I cried more than usual, and decide to leave, with the promise of buying this house and making it a home. But before leaving for good, I grab my phone and take a picture of this figure on the wall. After taking the picture, I notice a notification indicating a received email, which is strange because I think it might be from Mr. Skyle, reminding me of my absences, but I remember I justified them before leaving. I open the email and see who it's from: Levi Arthur LineMoon — I've always loved the fact that Levi has a middle name. When I was younger, I dreamed of having Charles as my middle name —. In it, Levi writes:

Hi Daany. Is everything okay? It's been a few days since I've seen you at college, did something happen?

In the last class you attended, we couldn't talk more because you left the room and didn't come back. Anything you need, I'm here. I don't know if you still have my number, but here it is.

Call or text me as soon as possible.

Best regards,

Levi LineMoon

For a moment, I was utterly baffled, Levi worrying about me? Did he remember me? I seriously consider sending him the photo of the wall I just took, to see if it triggers our memories. But I don't. I simply save his number, for some reason, I just lost the number he had written down for me last time we met at the library.

I descend the stairs and prepare to leave. Through a slip and carelessness, unintentionally, I brush my arm against one of the glass shards that were on the door frame. For a moment, I only feel a burning sensation where my skin was cut, then I see what happened. A cut about 4 in long on my left forearm, not a deep cut, but a bit of blood trickles from it. I try to stop the bleeding by applying pressure with my hand, but it doesn't work. So, I decide to take off my shirt and wrap it around my forearm, preventing anything else from coming out. I put on Aaron's blazer and button it up.

I set out on the long dirt road towards my parents' house; it's a 10 miles walk, but for me, distance is not the problem; walking, seeing the scenery, the fresh air, the peace around me, calms me. The sun is now less intense, almost setting, so the sky is a reddish-pink hue.

I arrive at my parents' house totally exhausted, noticing that no one is home—not my parents, not Sean, not Aaron, not even my uncles... nobody. Everyone's gone, as the car that was once in the garage is no longer there.

I enter through the front door, which as usual, was unlocked, and pass through the hallway leading to the living room and kitchen. I go straight to the kitchen and head to the second counter below the sink, where I find a first aid kit. I take an antiseptic wipe and clean the entire cut, which is now dry; it stings a bit. After cleaning, I see that it's still bleeding, so I grab a bandage and wrap it around my forearm. I put everything back in its place. I'm famished and head to the fridge, where I notice a lunch box with its lid labeled: For Daany. So, I assume it's mine; I don't see what's inside, I just put it in the microwave and eat it when it's ready. It's a delicious lasagna, and I don't know if it's because of the hunger, but it tastes better than usual. After eating, I realize no one has arrived yet, so I decide to go upstairs to take a shower.

In my room, I strip off all the clothes that have endured a funeral, a burial, and a long dirt road today. Then, I go to the bathroom, where I take a long shower, this time, hot; I take very little time, which surprises me. After the shower, I feel my body heavy as an anvil, so I only have the strength to grab my phone and reply to Levi:

Hi Levi. I'm fine, and how about you?

I wasn't feeling well in the last class, so I decided to leave. I apologize for the rudeness.

I'll be back at college next week, and also back to finish Mr. Skyle's assignment.

I lie down on the bed waiting for sleep to come, but it doesn't, so I decide to turn on the TV and watch whatever is on. I tune into a channel that's apparently showing a fighting movie, so since I have nothing better to do and my body is exhausted, I decide to end my day by watching it.