Susan walked slowly home still giddy with the sound of applause echoing in her ears.  She’d remembered all her lines and there hadn’t been a single mistake; that in itself was unusual.  As she walked, she looked up at the stars in the black night sky.  She loved the stars.  Whenever she looked at them, a feeling of isolation would always come over her.  She knew that no matter what else or who else existed in this world she would always be alone.  Nothing to signify she’d ever existed at all.  She could feel eternity to the depths of her soul and it seemed to project her outward into nothingness.  For being eleven years old, she felt as though she’d lived an eternity already, and an immense sadness overtook her. 

            She couldn’t understand the feeling completely.  She wouldn’t even begin to explain it to anyone else – they’d think she was crazy.  Sometimes at night, when she’d lie in her bed listening to the crickets chirp under her window, she’d get that same feeling of infinity – the present melded into the past and future.  Even though the sadness of it sometimes threatened to crush her, she was somehow comforted by it.  Maybe it allowed her to escape into something more bearable.  She always felt as though her soul was floating high above her into the darkness, and she could look down upon herself lying in bed.  Maybe she should be afraid.  Maybe she was crazy.  There wasn’t anyone to confide in or comfort her when it seemed to envelope her.  It was simply part of her life that had always existed, just like the déjà vu she regularly experienced. 

           

            The closer Susan drew to her home, the slower her pace became.  She dreaded going home.  No telling what was waiting for her when she got there.  Maybe they’d be watching television and pay no attention to her.  Yeah.  That’d be best.  As she approached the back door, she could hear the sounds of the television all right.  She eased the screen door open and tried to slip in unobserved.  So far, so good.  She quietly made her way to the bedroom and removed her shoes, socks, and clothes before slipping into a tattered cotton gown.  Then she grabbed up her notebook and schoolbooks and headed for the dining table to do her homework.

            Rosie yelled out from the den, “Has anybody seen Susan yet?” 

            Susan flinched.  “I’m in here doing my homework,” Susan called back.  She was met with silence, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  She hurried through her work, stacked everything on the table for the next day, and headed off to bed so she could return to her feeling of nothingness.  The fact that her mother hadn’t inquired about her play didn’t seem unusual to her; she would have been alarmed if she had.  In this house, it was best not to draw attention to yourself if at all possible. 

            Susan settled in under the sheet and pulled it over her head, leaving only her face peeking out.  She faced the open window so she could once again look at the stars.  She relaxed her small body and allowed her mind to flow outward into the darkness of eternity.  Peace finally descended on her and she was able to sleep.