Giselle Marchetti was in my class at a high school in Saint Augustine from 2002 to 2006.

She was not a friend.

She was not an enemy.

She was one of about forty people I knew reasonably and lost completely.

What I remembered was that she played volleyball, that her mother taught third grade, and that in eleventh-grade chemistry she sat two rows over and once loaned me a calculator and never asked for it back, and that I still have it in a drawer, which is a fact I did not think about at all until the September and have thought about a great deal since.

What I learned afterward is this.