A/N: This was my response to a friend's prompt-to write a story involving biology, a blood sample, a class card, a foreign student, and leaves. I have no idea where this came from...apparently I'm morbid.

It can happen anytime. Once the distractions fade out into a low hum and my mind restores itself to its relaxed state, I feel it. All I need is silence, peace-and the teacher’s droning is almost the next best thing. His voice, at first forming words and meaning, drifts off into a single listless syllable, and the battle between distraction and the friction against my neck becomes hopeless. I can only yield to my impulse and slip my hand underneath my dull gray sweater (which advertises one college or another, I haven’t actually checked) and curl it around the warm plastic vial, savoring its contrast with my cold, bony hand.

I almost laugh…I wonder how dear sister would reaction if she could see what I’ve become. Failing biology, math, history, and Latin classes, if only because I spend the period transfixed by her blood. Maybe my subconscious is grasping for the only part of her still with me…who knows. I vividly remember the day she came home from the hospital clutching the sample in her hands and told me it was too bright and pretty to throw away. At the time I laughed and called her a freak. That I still wear it underneath my unimpressive sweatshirt is too surreal. The only thing that could possibly justify my obsession is my unwavering belief that she would have fared even worse in the case of my death.

The bell doesn’t ring, nothing sudden occurs, but without due notice I am back in the real world. The chattering around me is a reminder that as a foreign exchange student it is wise to make as many friends as possible to “show me the ropes”. It doesn’t really matter, because most likely I won’t make any. My hand slips out of the neckline of my sweatshirt a bit reluctantly, and I skim my class card again. Briefly I wonder where I’ll be able to hide a blood sample when I have to change for Gym.

Outside the window, the autumn leaves are swirling down from the trees, lurid against the gray sky. They’re the most beautiful red. Almost exactly the same color as…well, they too are dying. It makes perfect sense.