My parents were still together and on their way to my old high school to pick me up and take me to the emergency room to get evaluated because I told my adjustment counselor I was scared I might kill myself. I didn’t want to go to the emergency room but my insurance company only covers these things if they’re an emergency. Maybe it was an emergency, I don’t know. But when I think of emergencies, I think of spurting blood and doctors screaming “we’re losing him,” and I was just sitting there shaking my knee and staring at the paintings on the walls. They were old students’ work that were left to be thrown away. I couldn’t stop looking at the one of the sunflowers; it was my favorite. I thought about how the student who made it had no idea it was hanging up, the last time they saw it they were leaving it to be thrown away, but it wasn’t in the trash, it was right here, and I was glad I was looking at it.