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It is dark. No moon hangs in the sky this night. Clouds cover any stars that may have lighted the earth. I glance over at the lake I am walking near; the waves shine as they collapse over each other. Shine with a light that does not exist.

As I walk near the lake shore I occasionally stumble over a rock or in the soft sand. It is difficult to find my way to Tiffany in this darkness. Finally, after a long walk, I reach her. She leads me inside into a pitch-black room. My eyes have adjusted to the dark by now; I can see vague outlines of objects in the room.

I look at the clock on the wall. It's made of wood and has golden hands; although I cannot actually see it with my eyes I can feel it with my heart. The golden hands are very lackluster without any light. I go back to staring into the darkness where I perceive Tiffany to be, and then glance back at the clock. The time has changed, rolling forward many hours. I do it again. Each time the time has gone forward or backwards in a very unusual fashion. It is very apparent that time is not moving in a normal way here, if it moves at all.

Finally, at 7:40, I agree to let her go as she normally leaves at 8 AM anyways. So she leaves. Since I no longer have reason to be there, I leave as well. As I walk through the darkness in which I cannot see, I see other clocks as well; all of them say 7:40. I have let her go too early. Frantically I begin running to find her.

I find myself at the bus stop at Woodrow Wallace Elementary School, the school I went to as a child. It is still pitch black. Somehow, I am able to see the outlines of buildings that I learned in when I was younger. I fall.

I land on my hands and knees on the playground about twenty feet from the bus stop. I feel the sand dig into my skin as I land, but it cushions the landing. Yet, I realize, there is nothing beneath me except darkness.

My voice will not come from my throat. I try to call to Tiffany, but I cannot. Fighting my way to my feet I stumble a few feet forward straining and pushing forward with all my will. I manage to yell out, "Tiffany!" at the top of my lungs. It echoes through darkness, but it does not echo her name. "Chandra, Bridgette, Amy, Rachel!" Hundreds of names of girls that I have known through my life are the echoes. Unable to continue, I fall to my hands and knees again and yell, "Tiffany," at the top of my lungs.

I know now, that she has been lost. I wait for the echoes that do not match my words to finish and suddenly feel frustrated

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