I heard of her death. I knew her little. Spoken briefly some years before, but it broke off and was forgotten. By both? Don't know. By me, yes. By her? Her pangs were acute. Perhaps she remembered yet another pinprick of a misperceived slight, if not the specifics. I ache for the manner of her death. I ache that she was so lonely, so isolated, so cut off from the human race. I feel alone sometimes, but she was alone. She had no one near. Her friends were all distant voices. She trusted none. Do not cause another person's loneliness.