It was five years ago on this very day that she had left her education behind, the whispers of freedom just grazing her thoughts. She could be an artist, or a musician, or a lawyer! She had always wanted to be a lawyer. And so it was exactly four years and three-hundred sixty-four days ago that she had left to go to law school once again, sure that the school would accept her letter. She brought all of her clothes, and closed up her apartment and left, certain that she would be accepted and that she would become a great lawyer; her entire life was just opening up right in front of her.
Then the letter came back from the school.
To whomever this may concern,
we regret to inform you that you were not accepted into the university. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause and we do hope you will try again next year.
The University of–
This was an outrage! How could she have not been accepted? Oh, this was a problem. Yes, yes it was. She had put everything she could into this school. She was willing to go through two, four, heaven's sake, ten more years of education! She watched sadly as her life closed in front of her, almost as if someone had placed a sign in front of the path that she was supposed to take to fame as a great lawyer. Woe was her. Since she had already expected to be accepted, she had contacted the university beforehand and confirmed that if she donated the money earlier it would count as her student fees, so she had done so. But, since she had not been accepted and the flow of money was not reversible, she could not pay her apartment or for food, and her parents would think of how foolish she was!
Quite a sad day it was for her.
And so, exactly four years and three-hundred sixty four days after that, she was smoking a cigarette, sitting on the streets with a crooked leg from the numerous careless accidents she had over the years, with one eye half-closed. She had no children, no life, no home, and her education had slowly faded from her mind. She could not remember what she had learned in college, or high school, nor middle school or elementary. She could barely do addition on her thin, bony, shaking fingers, which had no stability to speak of. During thunderstorms she would lay down on the ground and cry, hoping that she would not die but also that she would as to put herself out of her misery. She could not even afford pills or a simple steak knife to end what little life she had left.
That was true, until one day she made her way, bit by bit, to the city, which was not too far from where she had been beforehand. In the city she curled up in an empty alleyway, her only company being a pungent dumpster, but the company was welcome, because the people inside that faded building were rich and often threw away entire dishes, though often they were not as fresh as the little bags of salty fries people would sometimes drop in front of her alleyway.
Sometimes, the rich people would even drop tiny bags of rich caviar, or a bar of chocolate. These were rare treats, and neither very filling, but caviar made a good addition to stale bread or old crackers, and chocolate was a good thing to eat right after one had eaten a big meal. But these were so rare that they were only maybe thrown out once a month, and she was not even sure the rich people were aware that she lived there. She was not sure if she wanted them to be aware, for she was certain that if they owned the house that they owned the alleyway and she would certainly be kicked out by them, so she continued to live silently and sadly.
Almost three months passed, living like that in the dumpster, until part of her memory flashed back when an old high school friend strolled by the dumpster in casual, but also expensive-looking, clothes. The woman ran up to her old friend and gave her a big hug, and then kissed her on both of her cheeks. Her old friend did not realize who she was, and so she started screaming. At this, the woman became confused. Why did her old friend not remember her? She removed her arms and pressed herself down to her knees and looked up at her. The dirt and grunge from her arms had stained her friend's beautiful shirt, and her friend was clutching her bag. Before she realized what happened, her friend had slapped her across the face with the bag.
Wait, she wanted to call out. Wait for me. I know you...
But to the invisible, unspoken words, there was no response.