We go to the same school, but unlike her, I never talk unless I have to. She often walked around the school with a large group of friends and everyone knew her. They often greeted her with a smile or a wave, while I just kept my head down and walked, minding my own business. I learned at an early stage that if I didn’t talk to anyone, no one would talk to me. It had worked so far. I was always like this, the world didn’t need to know what I do or what I did. People are so caught up in their own lives, they don’t have time to worry about anyone else, until I met her.

I met her on accident. I wasn’t supposed to know. I just happened to be at the hospital at the time; just a regular follow up. I hated the hospital, it smelled of alcohol and the mask of germs. I took a seat in the waiting area, and it was out of my curiosity that I picked up the book lying on a chair next to me. I read the title: Living with Dying. I wondered who it belonged to. Just then, the girl walked towards me with a paper bag in her hand. She slowed her walking pace as she saw me with the book in my hand, but she immediately started smiling. I’m about to die, she told me.