I got out of bed and tiptoed to the door. I opened it and went to the small round table at the end of the hall. We had always kept a pitcher of water here for Ron. No one wanted to get rid of it, for that would make his death absolute, a horrible truth that would haunt us forever.

I was pouring my water into a tall glass when I heard something. It was very quiet and it sounding like someone crying-no, pouring their eyes out.