Ashley feels another yawn coming on, bites it off, moves to the door. “I should go get some sleep. And you should get back to bed, too.”

Spencer looks at her oddly, but just nods, stifles another yawn of her own. She plops back on her stomach, adjusts her pillow, arm around it, and Ashley again notices the strong grip, the possessive curve of the girl’s arm.

“Ash?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna hang out later on?”

Ashley smiles, a gamble paid off. “Yeah. I’ll call you later.”

“At a reasonable time!” It is said in a low voice, in warning, yet on the edge of laughter, teasingly; a bouquet of diverging emotions only friends communicate in.

Ashley salutes smartly, opens the door. “G’night, Spencer.”

Spencer looks at her in amusement, in wonderment and then, with a shake of her head, with acceptance. “Good night, Ashley.”

Ashley takes a moment, leaning on the other side of the closed door, feels a giddy smile stretch her face. She then gallops down the stairs, this time not caring that her boots are making hollow thump-thump sounds with every step, runs to her car.

Ashley sleeps like a starfish. Limbs spread out, afloat in her dreams, she makes an ocean out of her bed. She makes up simple stories in her dreams, sings whale songs – her message in a bottle, carried away by the waves. Sometimes, when she wakes up, her life feels like a dream. A long, sheets twisted with scared sweat kind of dream. In her real dreams, at night, she is never alone. Echoes of an empty house don’t follow her there. Only when she is awake, a big house, a big city all to herself, she feels that she is young, a little girl all on her own. When she wakes, Ashley dresses for the days filled with echoes. Ashley dresses up. Into someone large, someone who can fill up the space, fill up the lavishly-appointed rooms, fill up the silence.

Ashley climbs into her big car, drives to the big school. The school is never empty, there are bodies everywhere, voices, faces and yet… The emptiness echoes.