"Today, we are gathered to mourn the loss of Silence Frisby," Dorothea began. She tapped the wooden podium with the tips of her fingers and pulled at a little lock of hair. "Silence was only twenty years old when she was struck down. In fact," and here Dorothea sniffled a bit, "Today would have been her birthday."

And what a happy birthday it would have been, Requiem thought sullenly as she watched her mother give an incredibly fake eulogy. Never mind that it's two other peoples' birthdays. She sat back in her chair and looked at her older sister, Soliloquy. Soliloquy didn't look back. She was playing her part exactly, occasionally dabbing at her dark eyes. Requiem, however, sat back and played with a strand of her long hair while tapping her foot and looking at her watch.

Dorothea looked down at her two living daughters and glared at Requiem. Requiem smiled beatifically and wiggled her fingers in a wave. With a bit of a "hmph," Dorothea returned to her speech.

"She was a wonderful daughter, sister, and friend, who devoted herself to God..."

Requiem snickered quietly at this. Soliloquy turned to her and lightly tapped Requiem on the arm. Soli's face was disapproving, but her eyes plainly said Make it look good. Mother will kill us if you don't. Requiem sighed and got out some Kleenex to dab her eyes with. Back to playing the daughter fraught with emotion.

Eventually, Dorothea shut up and Silence was lowered into the ground. Requiem didn't like this at all. Her beautiful eldest sister, with her pale, pale skin and dark fluffy hair was going to sit underground in a box until her body rotted and her bones turned to dust. After throwing a white rose into that deep hole as her mother instructed her to do, Requiem quietly walked home by herself.

The weather was warm and the sky was blue for February, but every once in a while the wind whipped frigid against Requiem's cheek. She shivered through her thin black dress and dragged her feet through the snow. Requiem suddenly wished that Silence was walking with her instead of laying in a box beneath the ground. Silence could always make Requiem laugh, and she could perform near-perfect impressions of their mother.

"Now Requiem," she'd say. "Do that homework you've got. Your father wants you to be smart for when you need to bring the world to rights. Soliloquy, grow your hair out! God hates a short-haired woman."

While her mother's words usually made her want to scream, Silence made them funny. "Silence!" she'd bark at herself. "Put away that book right now! You should be acting more womanly. Do your embroidery." THey'd laugh at this and Silence would add solemnly, "I hate embroidery. If I have to cross-stitch 'I am a daughter of God' into one more pillowcase, I'll scream!"

Requiem smiled at the thought and turned right on Banna Street, going in the exact opposite direction of her apartment. She walked past the noisy children playing in the street, dressed in t-shirts and jeans, all of them without coats. She walked past the little stores, closed for Sunday, with their cold, cheap apartments on the second floor. She walked until she stood in front of Powell's Food and Drug.

"Holly!" Requiem yelled, craning her neck up to look at the top of the building. "Holly!"

A Chinese girl stuck her head out of one of the open windows, her dark hair falling around her face. "Just a second, Requiem." She pulled her head back in, yelling, "Oliver! Oliver Chou, put that down or I'll skin you alive!"

Holly clattered down the stars while Requiem waited outside. She finally showed up in the doorway and bounded out to hug Requiem. Requiem pulled herself out of Holly's arms and started walking further away from her house.

On her heels was Holly, trotting along like a kitten. "So the funeral's over already, Requiem?"

Requiem nodded absently. "All but the reception, which I didn't want to go to."

"It sucks, huh?" Holly said hesitantly. "I mean--to go to a funeral on your birthday."

Requiem nodded again and quickly asked, "So what was Oliver doing this time?"

"Trying to break every piece of glass in the house. I swear, if Mom didn't insist on keeping the window open for ventilation, I'd strangle the rat," Holly said, clenching her fists.

"I'm glad I'm the youngest," Requiem said loftily, putting her hands behind her head.

Holly clipped her on the ear. "Oh, shut up."

"Why?"

"I'll pound you."

"Yes, of course you will, my four-foot friend."

"Five foot!"

"Oh, shut up."

"Why?"

"I'll pound you, otherwise."

At this time, Holly shot off into the empty, slushed street. Requiem darted after her and they both tore through the neighborhood. Both girls slipped into the same patch of ice and fell into a snowy yard, laughing loudly.

"That was fun," said Requiem breathlessly.

"Yeah."

They didn't move, though, and lay on the ground, giggling and catching their breath.

"Hey!" a voice hollered. A woman opened the door of her house and yelled, "Get off the grass!"

Holly and Requiem scrambled to their feet and ran off, yelling apologies. They walked in silence for quite a while. Requiem shivered in her thin clothes and looked at Holly. Her lips were blue tinged and she had stuffed her hands as far as she could into her jacket.

"Maybe we should go back," Holly suggested as she moved her legs mechanically.

"All right."

So they turned around and went home. Neither said a word until they reached Holly's apartment. She waved and skipped up the steps. As Requiem walked away, she heard a familiar yell of, "Oliver, stop it!"

Requiem walked as slowly as she could. The sky darkened quickly and twilight soon fell. She walked down Banna Street back to where she was when she turned to Holly's side of the street. She kept walking and took Lane Lane for a few blocks until she ended up in front of 174 Lane Lane, better known, as evidenced by the fading sign on the building, as That Dump of an Apartment Building. Every once in a while, people referred to it as Green Gardens, as evidenced by the official sign that was hanging right above the first.

Requiem trudged up the stairs to her apartment and let herself in, only to find her mother already there and fixing sandwiches for dinner. Dorothea looked up sharply as her daughter entered.

"Requiem! Where did you go?" she said, banging her knife against the counter. "How do you think it looks when only two of Silence's family members stayed the entire time? How dare you make me look so bad?"

"There were only eight other people there," Requiem retorted. "And besides--"

Dorothea turned around to her dinner. "Closet. Now."

"But--but--" Requiem sputtered and clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Please--listen--"

"Closet. Now." Dorothea turned back around and smiled, holding the knife out to Requiem.

Requiem quickly turned and ran to the hall closet. It was not a large closet, with just enough room for a person to sit wedged in it with their knees drawn up and their head bent down. Only a very small child could fit into the lowest space without their head hitting the shelf above, and Requiem had not been a very small child for a long time. She squeezed into the space and was engulfed in darkness as her mother shut the door and locked it.

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