Smith draw breath sharply. She was a good and well-liked counselor, trusted by most students and used to hearing hair raising stories. But you - luckily, I suppose - never get used to students losing parents. She moved closer to Fran and took her other hand, but Fran didn't seem to notice. Dad still looked her in the eye and Fran seemed to draw strength and comfort from that, sensing only Dad. "How did it happen?" she asked."She suffered a massive stroke in a shop downtown," Dad replied. I later learned it was a grog-shop and that she yelled herself to a stroke over being refused credit."Did she suffer much?" Fran asked, picking up on the more common meaning of what was simply meant as a medical term."No. Impossible," Dad replied. "She must have been unconscious in seconds. I know, since they called me to the emergency room because of her size. She was brain dead on arrival, suffered cardiac arrest and stopped breathing in the emergency room. We couldn't bring her back." What happens. She turned out to be pretty boyish... and was the type that didn't mind socking you on the shoulder if you said something that pissed her off.She wasnt overly concerned with being fashionable or looking pretty; most days she just wore skinny jeans vans and a shirt with some hardcore band on it. She complemented that with a simple jade necklace and on rare occassions some eyeliner. She had silky brown hair that was layered and cut to just above her shoulder.As time went on we got closer and closer. Since our English class was right after lunch we started to ditch together... much to the annoyance of our friend who we always left behind. We would hang out by the tennis courts or in the quad and she would just talk about random stuff.As she talked I couldn't help but take notice of her lips and silky smooth hair; Her skin looked very soft and I wanted so bad to just reach out and touch her. But I knew that if I did I'd probably get smacked in the face.But one night I got a call. It was.
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