The bell tower was striking ten as I walked back, under rain that wasn't quite. So many things I must do, and I still take the time to spend eight bucks, a lot of money for a college student (no, I am not one of the rich Baylor kids, I'm here on scholarship... and just barely)... on a play. My roommate wonders, why would I spend that much if I'm not even getting extra credit points? I wonder, what is wrong with her mind to make her get up early to go work out.

I love walking across campus in the dark, especially when everything is shining from mist that can't make up its mind whether to fall or hover around. My mother told me never to walk alone after dark. I justify my actions: there are still people around.

I watched The Shadow Box, which is about a bunch of people with cancer. Something that has never come close to me. I can't understand how it feels, and I am selfishly glad that I don't. The life expressed, though, still makes me cry. It hurts to try to hold it back, to try not to shake and gasp and make noises (I am a disgusting crier), because I don't want to interfere with the play, and I am among strangers.

It was a fleeting thing, like spending a few hours in someone else's life... only I don't know how to feel as them, and there is no way I can translate the strange message that embedded itself in my soul.

So I just cried in the almost-but-not-quite rain, while the bell tower sounded the hour.