Rosalie was thinking, as usual, about herself. I tried not to listen if I could help it. Only four voices did I block out of courtesy rather than distaste: my family, my two brothers and two sisters, who were so used to the lack of privacy in my presence that they rarely gave it a thought. Half the sheep-like males were already imagining themselves in love with her, just because she was something new to look at. The excitement over her arrival was tiresomely predictable-like flashing a shiny object at a child. I’d seen the new face repeated in thought after thought from every angle. Today, all thoughts were consumed with the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body here. When it came to the human mind, I’d heard it all before and then some. Several hundred of these voices I ignored out of boredom. It was one way to tune out the voices that babbled like the gush of a river inside my head. I stared at the cracks running through the plaster in the far corner of the cafeteria, imagining patterns into them that were not there. I suppose this was my form of sleep-if sleep was defined as the inert state between active periods. The tedium was not something I grew used to every day seemed more impossibly monotonous than the last.
Or was purgatory the right word? If there was any way to atone for my sins, this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. This was the time of day when I wished I were able to sleep.
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