In a small, hidden corner of the library, there are six neat tally marks in red paint, pressed there with a lighter than usual hand, and in a smaller than usual way. This is something she won't be around to clean up.]
I'm at a bit of a loss for words, as of late.
I believe I lost them when I heard someone very offhandedly tell me- sometime after the bomb threat, anyway- that I would "be alright" because I was dead already.
Just- no. I wouldn't. I don't even have enough words to say no with. I don't think she meant anything that serious by it- maybe she didn't think it through or something like that- but I could not even begin to express how not alright I'd be if such an event were to actually take place.
Losing Six was upsetting. She was valuable. You all are.
Like I said, I've been at a loss for words. Everything feels a bit like nonsense at this point.