It’s the end of winter break and the start of a new semester. The sound of yawns follow the students as they enter the classroom and take their seats. The bell rings and almost 5 minutes go by before the teacher scurries into class with a dark green sweatshirt with gold letters that read “Dublin” 

Following a greeting a student asks, “Dr. Mel, why do you always wear that green hoodie each day?” The student was a freshman, he was well known but he often kept his head down and stayed out of trouble. He never talked bad about anyone and no one talked bad about him. It was like he was hiding. Always around but no one really saw him.

 The teacher was a retired professor. Tall with a big head and thick hair, though rarely combed. He often used his sweatshirt’s hood to cover his untamed hair.

It’s a story from long ago, the teacher says. I have never told anyone this story although I suppose it’s because no one ever asked. 

Come on you can tell me the boy said his eyes widening with interest as he spoke. 

The teacher pauses, fiddling with the thick tattered drawstrings embedded in the hoodie. After a brief moment the teacher begins.

They were kids themselves, brother and sister. Separated by that of 7 years. The girl was in college and the boy, a freshman in highschool. The girl had taken part in a study abroad and was placed in the idyllic city of Dublin, Ireland. They would call almost each day and today was no different. “Are you coming home for thanksgiving?” he said. 

She paused, “I'll find a flight soon, I promise”. 

The boy drops his shoulders in disappointment, and says “I’ll talk to you later.” Then ending the call without waiting for a response. 

Just the day prior to Thanksgiving the boy had gotten a call. A man spoke softly and introduced himself. I am John Huntley, head of the An Garda Síochána. Are you Mel Reddy?” “Yes.” the boy replied wondering what on earth the An Garda Síochána was. “I hate to inform you, that um. Your sister, was uh. She was reported dead at 8:39 this morning. The boy, just in a pure shock. Sinking to the floor in confusion and disbelief. An eerie sense of cold spread through his body, it was like he was in a snowstorm. Nothing felt warm, not even his big head. 

The boy took many years to return to his “old” self. That artificial sense of cold never left, and it was only warmed with a thick sweatshirt given to him from his sister.