I pace the room. School has started, and Callie is away. I am alone; or almost. Callie's parent, her despondent adoptive father, sits in a near-comatose state in the next room. He never talks to me at all. He looks through me as though I was a puny insect. So does everyone else. The only person who cares about me is Callie. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who cares about her.
She tells me that she always feels alone. That people always leave her. I can't tell why, really. She is an intelligent young lady, with talent and skill for a very large number of things. Her only flaw is her social ineptitude. But I cover up for that.
Callie's "Pa" tells her to make more friends (the hypocrite!) but she doesn't, instead making up stories and rattling them off at the mention of the subject. I don't blame her. People can be... well. Let's not go into details. And Callie has me, right? I listen to her problems, unlike most I know.
I walk downstairs. It is two forty-five. School will be over in a quarter-hour. I should go.
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