MITCHELL, Adam
May 17th, 199X - November 2nd, 201X
Beloved son of Lisa and Robert Mitchell, Adam was a shining star on the rise. Known by everyone in the community as a quiet and gentle soul, Adam played piano and maintained a 4.0 average at school. He was artistic, creative, warmhearted and intelligent; a young man that would have surely gone on to changing the lives of many. He is deeply missed by all who knew him: family, friends, teachers, and acquaintances. Funeral services will be held on November 13th at Memorial Park. Condolences to the family from the staff at The Daily Star.
When the bell signaling the start of a new class rang overhead, Owen placed the crumpled newspaper clipping back into his messy desk drawer. He had torn it carefully from the newspaper he found at an empty table in the local coffee shop. His eyes had glazed over the picture then, his thumbs smudged with black ink, and he shoved it into his pocket without reading it. Sitting at his desk, he had read it possibly a hundred times by now -- as if some detail would change, or as if it would cease to exist altogether.
Realizing that he had missed his opportunity to have a quick smoke, the young teacher cursed under his breath as students started to stream in. Thankfully this was his last English class of the day, but he remembered his music session at school that he knew he couldn't skip for the 5th time in a row. Watching the students take their seats and chat as they always did, Owen clenched his jaw. Desks were slowing being occupied, except for the one that would remain eerily empty this period. Flowers and little cards had been left a few days after the incident, but soon after they were all gone. Was it the janitorial staff? Was it a student? The principal? Owen's guess was as good as anyone's.
Lost in his thoughts, Owen didn't realize when the bell signaling the start of class rung. The students quieted down, which had only just started in the past two weeks; all watched the young man hunched at his desk, his hand holding his head.
"How long do you think it will take today?" a girl whispered to the boy beside her.
"Wanna make it interesting? I bet 10 bucks it'll take five minutes, like yesterday." he retorted, grinning at the idea of making some easy money. The girl rolled her eyes and angrily whispered back.
"You're horrible!... but deal."
Sadly for the boy, their teacher cleared his throat and stood from his chair. The girl stifled a giggle.
"Hey, everyone," Owen started, taking a deep breath before continuing, "let's do a journal assignment today, okay?"
Lacking the enthusiasm he usually exuded, his words sounded tired and depressed. He grabbed the stack of the student's notebooks, and began walking between rows to pass them around.
"I graded your last entries... not your best. Try to fill out two pages this time, and really... reflect on the subject matter this time."
Making his way to the front of the room, Owen picked up a dry-erase marker and uncapped it, then wrote in a lazy scrawl: How do you overcome hardship?
"You have all period. If you finish before the bell, continue reading Jane Eyre."
Taking a seat once more, Owen leaned back and opened his desk drawer. He stared at that little piece of paper and let his mind go blank to the sound of pencils scratching on paper.
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