That night, we saw a play. And then we went to a midnight movie. I was nodding off through the last half of it, I'd gotten up early that morning to go running. And, I keep wondering... if there was something... in the play, or in the movie, some trigger, or... some reason. Something that could... set her off, you know? Something I missed. I just keep trying to look for clues. For answers. She had survived so much. Why that night?

See, I didn’t…really…think that I’d make it this far up. Although, I’ve always been a bit of a climber. When I was nine months old, my mom found me sitting on top of the brown cow in the barn one morning. I never considered myself afraid of heights before, but, it’s not really the climbing up that scares me. It’s the getting down, Black Crow…It seemed so easy getting here—just put one foot on the branch then another and…Oh, I’ve tried going down already. I put my foot on a branch, but it’s slippery now. See? It’s like the sludge at the bottom of the pig trough. And you do not want to be climbing down from the clouds on pig sludge! I’d fly off and land down there in a broken bone pile. And, then everyone would just say, “Well, that’s Amelie. She doesn’t know how to climb down, poor slow girl.”

The picture was small, it didn't look like a school picture, it looked more like a candid shot. She was sort of smiling, but she looked somehow... suspicious. I have a strangely vivid memory... of her face. That night... she seemed fine. Friendly, and smiling. And I couldn't have done anything differently. And I couldn't have known what she was feeling. But then, I didn't ask, did I? I just never knew anyone who died...