I moved around her and for the first time ever, stepped into her home. The living room was dimly lit by a small table lamp in the corner. Beside it was a picture frame with a photo of Kat and what I assumed was her family. She couldn’t have been older than six in the picture, and I didn’t ask, but I guessed it was the last picture she had with her dad before he’d passed away. I wondered about the six people who died in the halls that day, if their families still had pictures of them on tables. I wouldn’t want the reminder. The pain of knowing you could only see them in a moment frozen in time. I’d rather just not see them at all. The couch looked like it had seen better days. There was a tear on the far left and a spring sticking out of the back of the cushion. Next to the lamp was a stack of mail, and from the past due stamped on the top envelope it was obvious it was mostly bills. “I wasn’t expecting company.
