Alabaster ceiling

I remember when Kurt Cobain committed suicide there were a few friends in school who jokingly thought a kid who sat next to me in class seemed kind of suicidal. Soon enough we convinced ourselves that maybe he in fact was suicidal. Eventually, as the story grew in our conversation to seem real, it really struck us as problematic, as my proximity to him may be reason enough to explore the depths of his mind in order to potentially avert such a tragedy. They suggested I talk to him, because none of us had seen him speak more than a few words. I struck up a superficial kind of conversation with him, sort of like a talk about the weather. He was a little milquetoast, going on about how the walls in the classroom were alabaster, and how this was altogether mundane and appropriate in order to keep kids’ focus on the lesson. I realized nobody had previously talked to me about alabaster and eventually my thoughts drifted to the ceiling, which was the exact shade of the walls and equally oppressive. Anyway, he made it through school. We talked from time to time in the hallways.
Alabaster ceiling

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