A/N: This is a work of fiction, and though it is set in our world, most of the places are made up, and all similarities to any people living or dead are purely coincidental.

The obnoxious ring of a telephone echoed in the silence of the apartment. Ella dropped her book with a start, and-eyes wide with excitement- bounced in the general direction of the noise, which was the kitchen. "Now, where did I…hmm, maybe the fridge? That's where put it last-oh!" she exclaimed, and clapping her hands she ran to the cupboard. She stood up on her tiptoes, and peered into it. "Well, I could have sworn I-wait, I see it! Haha!" She giggled, shaking her head in slight self-reproach. "Silly me! Why on earth would anyone put a phone in a cookie jar? Drew will scold me when he finds out!" Pressing the "talk" button and holding the wayward phone to her ear, she chirped "hello?!" A slightly tired sounding voice replied; "Hello, is this Miss Carter?" She frowned. "Um…Yeah? Who…who is this?" She didn't know them; she didn't know them at all, and that usually meant something bad was going to happen. "I am sorry, Miss. I am your friend's-James O'Neil-doctor." Ella blanched, and her throat went dry as she stuttered, "D-d-doctor?" She could hear the sympathy-no, pity-in his voice as he spoke to her, and it made her strangely angry. "Yes. I'm truly sorry, Miss-but I've called to tell you your friend died Tuesday. The funeral will be held at-" "Wait!" She took a deep breath before continuing. "Why? Why is he…?" The pity in his voice was absolutely suffocating. "I don't know, Miss; His heart simply gave out-was he, perhaps, a heavy drinker?" Ella laughed harshly, closing her eyes. "No…No, he couldn't drink. God knows he tried, but he never…" "I see, perhaps his heart was simply too small, he was, after all, a rather tall personage." "No," she whispered. "His heart was the biggest of all…" This time, the Doctor's voice sounded condescending. "Of course it was, Miss; but I was talking about its physical size. Will that be all?" Her fingers clenched around the phone. "Of course. But you were saying something about a funeral?" The Doctor coughed, sounding slightly embarrassed-something almost as annoying as his pity. "Ah…yes. His parents decided to hold it in California since most of his friends-like you, Miss-live there. It's on this Friday, at one of our hospitals. Do you know where it is?" "No. I wasn't aware of his…illness." There was a slight, awkward pause and she could hear the disdain seep into the Doctor's voice. "I see. It's called All Saints' Hope Hospital; it's in the town of Newgrove, on the left corner of Drowned Street. Do you need more specific directions?" "No…" She answered softly. "We all used to live on that street. That's how we…that's how we met each other." The phone clicked, and she set it down slowly, her heart heavy and cold. "Dead…" She whispered to herself, as pictures of her-of his, of their-childhood flashed by in bright, vicious succession. "But…But why? He was…H-he w-w-was so…"

He was so alive.