She liked to play hide and seek. Under a banyan, she hid inside the convoluted air roots. Oftentimes she stayed there until dusk. Nobody found her, and she went home.

She never talked quite much. In classes, in girl’s circle. No one talked a lot in school. In tedious summer daylight, the teacher lectured on and on into a infinite black hole. She faced sleepiness, emptied inside out, like a worm hole, inviting her to come down.

She doesn’t have a question.

That’s the problem. Jenna says. Interaction is the best way to learn. But she doesn’t have a question.

She feels like something’s blended and clogged at her chest. She pulls forcefully. Nothing came out.

She asked the teacher why she’s trained in that way.

The teacher said it’s for protecting yourself.

But I don’t need protection.

No you need that. The teacher said. See?

The teacher pointed at the apple. The apple was wrapped in Saran Wrap, vaccumed around its bruise, suffocated from the water brought from the orchard.

She walked out of the daylight in the teacher’s office.