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Verry

“I didn’t really know him,” Verry says. “He was in my orientation group.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Pan looks five years older than he did a year ago. “There are maybe ten people here who believe–I mean, why a memorial?” He sighs. “The guy’s been dead six months, we graduated a year and a half ago…”

“But it’s so crowded!”

“Heh. That’s what I’m saying.” Pan pulls at his napkin. “We’re here to get lai–I shouldn’t make that inclusive. But.”

Verry sips again without actually drinking. She admits, privately, that she wouldn’t have come without losing that ten off her thighs.

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