A nurse with light brown hair turned to her male nurse colleague. "Good God, that was a long shift."

He shrugged. "But it's over now, though."

"Yeah, I guess. I just wish this place wasn't so damn stressful."

"Then you probably shouldn't have become a nurse." He put his hands up to fend off her arm punch. He turned into the locker room and flipped on the light switch. "What the…"

The room looked like it was struck by a hurricane. Hangers on the floor, lockers thrown open, belongings scattered about.

The woman flipped through the coats that were hanging up. "Have you seen my winter coat?"

"It's not hanging up?"

"It was, but now, it's gone…" She turned toward her locker and found it turned inside out. "...and so are my mittens!"

"Where are my boots?"

She put her hands on her hips. "The ones small enough for a woman?"

"Yes, the ones small enough for a woman!", he repeated in a mocking tone.

"I'm going to class. See you later." Trent's roommate, whose name he couldn't be bothered to even mumble goodbye to, disappeared behind the dorm room door.

Trent had been lying in bed since eight o'clock last night. All he wanted was to crawl into a hole and pull it in after him.

The enormity of the situation weighed on him. Except for some distant relatives - the bridges to whom were no doubt scorched by his doppleganger's capering - Trent had no family left.

He didn't even think he'd be up to eating, at least until- Trent's eyes popped open. He was going to meet Gwen tonight.

He put a hand to his head. He groaned at how grief had upended his schedule.

Trent swung his legs out from under the covers. He was going to have to get up sooner or later. He staggered to the bathroom and turned on the light.

He recoiled. His eyes were red from crying so much. As he took some of his roommate's eyedrops from the medicine cabinet, he reflected on how glad he was to hide his emotional state from the other students.

No doubt, some of them would jump to the (moronic) conclusion that his crying was related to the number nine. He couldn't help but think that, given some of what he's read online about himself, this generation was impervious to things like pain and empathy and remorse.

'It's a good thing I have the day off', Trent thought to himself. He took a look at himself in the mirror. He looked much better than he did.

Trent threw a shirt on and grabbed some pants. If he was fast, he could still catch breakfast in the quad.

His phone buzzed. Clearly, he forgot to turn it off last night; how could he be in any shape to take phone calls? He grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Trent, it's Leonard." Trent stopped in his tracks. If his boss was calling, it was for one reason.

"What's up?", Trent said tentatively. He hoped deeply that there was a new reason in the cards.

"Sandy and Lucian called off. It's that bug that's going around. Her shift has been covered, but you're gonna have to cover his."

"How long is Lucian's shift?"

"Twelve to eight-thirty."

Trent gnashed his teeth. He was supposed to meet Gwen at six-thirty. "I don't know if I can. I mean, my Mom passed away."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Trent." The young man knew that his boss sincerely meant the comment. "I wouldn't ask, but these are tight circumstances. I can give you an extra dollar an hour."

Trent mulled it over. "Two dollars."

"Dollar-fifty."

He sighed. "Okay."

"Good. See you at noon." Trent hung up. Much as it pained him to stand Gwen up, he didn't want to risk his job. Plus, the extra money could come in handy.

Trent sat in a chair in the Sobey's breakroom. It was his last break and he was deeply grateful for it. In addition to cashing out, he'd also been lifting boxes for various departments.

He grimaced at his phone. Of course, he'd forget to charge it before he left. He slammed it down on the table. He could only wonder how Gwen was feeling right now.

A bowl of microwave popcorn. A big bag of Smarties. A six-pack of 355 milliliter bottles of root beer from The Pop Shoppe. A television tuned to The Evil Dead (just after the scene where one of the girls had an unfortunate encounter with a tree).

In Gwen's eyes, the only thing that would make this night better is to have someone with whom to share all of this with.

She thought she had that. She picked up her phone. No new messages. No ringtone. No nothing.

'I'm gonna kill him', she said to herself, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Trent drove back to Humber. All he wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep. The only good thing about a grueling work day like the one he just had is that, at some point, it ends.

He mentally went over his to-do list for the next day: go to class, visit Gwen, apologize a thousand times, treat her to some discounted, post-Valentine's chocolate, arrange his mother's funeral. The order of those items would have to finalized between now and tomorrow morning, though.

Trent pulled his car into the parking lot and huddled his coat close as he made his way across the parking lot. It seemed to be a lot colder than usual.

Not wanting to read too much into the change in temperature, he opened the door of his dorm and got on the elevator.

Trent trudged down the hallway toward his room. As he drew closer, he saw a sock wrapped around the door knob. This puzzled him, as his roommate seemed to be the prototypical Nice Guy; no way would he have a girl here.

Trent rapped on the door. No answer. He turned the handle...and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He slowly went inside.

"Hello?"

Trent closed the door behind him. He flipped on the light switch. Sitting on his bed was a figure in a hooded winter coat with small boots and mittens. Trent backed away slowly from the figure.

"Why are you backing away from me? I thought I raised you better than that."

Trent stopped and gaped at the intruder. It was a little strained and hoarse, but he knew that voice.

"Mom?" His own voice nearly gave out.

Annette pulled the gloves off with her teeth. She removed the hood and smoothed her hair out. "Sorry I didn't have time to put my face on."

"How did you get here?"

"I took a cab."

"They brought you here for free?"

She tried to kick off her boots. Thinking quickly, Trent slid to her side and removed them. "Much like my winter gear, I had to borrow-slash-steal some money, though given some of what those nurses say about you whenever you left, I'd like to think of it as poetic justice. I mean, how could they not know that coma patients hear everything?" She motioned to the forearm crutches next to her. "Though maneuvering on my legs wasn't the easiest task."

"The hospital told me they lost you. I honestly thought you were dead."

As best as she could, Annette ran her hand along Trent's face. "Think about it, dear. They lost me like they'd lose car keys. I was still around."

"Why did you come here?"

"We both know that I don't have a lot of time left-" Trent put his finger on Annette's lips.

"Don't you say that."

"You may not want to believe that. I'm just amazed that I've lasted this long." She extended her arm as best as she could. "Just grab my hand. I'll be right here." Trent smiled a little as he complied with her words.

"How'd you even get in here?"

"Your roommate returned for some reason; a book or something. I knew I had to act quickly. As he left, I hobbled toward the door, stuck the crutch out before it closed. I got in. No one even noticed me go in. I hadn't eaten anything in a while. Thank goodness for that bottle of iced tea."

Trent hugged his mother. "Oh, it is so good hearing your voice. I just wish Dad were here."

"Me too, son."

"Is there anything I can get for you? Blanket, something to eat?"

"A cup of tea?"

"I'll see what I can do." With a speed that impressed even his mother, Trent ran out of the room and down the hall.

Annette held the Dixie cup of tea to her mouth and cautiously sipped it. She always had tea following a stressful situation.

Trent still seemed to be out of breath; the school store was just about to close when he got there.

"Trent, I know you told me what had happened to you, but I still can't believe it. I mean, I knew those reality shows weren't on the up and up, but what happened to you is tantamount to false imprisonment. You have a real suit against these people."

"I should get that taken care of, huh?"

"Absolutely. Your father and I have a list of colleagues. Any of them will help out."

"Where do I find this list?"

"Last I remember...on top of the dresser in our bedroom."

"In your new home?"

"Yes."

"I was so upset when I got home and it was empty."

"Well, after the show, the...lookalike visited us. Patrick was upset with him, but I just knew that something wasn't right about him. It looked like you, it talked like you, but I knew it wasn't you." Annette caressed Trent's face. "It was like that movie, Invasion of the Body Snatchers." Trent smiled as he kissed the woman's forehead; 'This is my mother, all right', he thought. "I didn't dare say anything while he was there. Who knows what he'd have done? After he left, I insisted that we move."

"I knew you moved because of him. I goddamn knew it!"

"Trent, language."

"I'm sorry, Mom." Trent sighed. "I probably should've looked for you through the internet."

"Your father and I weren't online."

"Well, maybe through one of your friends, business partners, somebody-"

"That doesn't matter now. It's in the past. What matters is the future. Justice, your education…" A sly smile crept onto Annette's face. "...marriage. That Gwen is a really sweet girl. I'm glad you brought her by."

"So am I."

"I just can't believe she was dating that punk."

"Like you said, 'it's in the past'."

"Indeed, I did."

Trent jerked a thumb toward the door. "By the way, what was with the sock on the door?"

"Did you forget that I went to college too? A sock on the door, your roommate is with someone, so get lost. I put it on so your roommate wouldn't be weirded out by the old lady on crutches."

Trent laughed a little. "Good thinking. You know, I really missed talking to you...and having you talk back."

"It's just good to talk to someone."

"So, where is the new house?"

"168 Caines Avenue in North York, Willowdale. There's a key under the welcome mat."

"Good to know."

"Maybe you can take Gwen up there one day. Trent, I want to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Does Gwen make you happy?"

Trent smiled deeply. "She makes me very happy."

Annette returned the smile. "That's really all I needed to know." Little by little, her smile slipped away. She fell backward onto the bed.

"Mom. Mom! Please, no! Mom!" Trent cradled the woman, fresh tears forming in his eyes. He checked her wrist pulse. He shook his head. "Mom…" Trent picked up his phone. He inwardly groaned; no juice. He scurried toward the electrical outlet next to his bed and plugged in the adapter. The jack went into his phone. 9-1-1 had never been dialed faster by anyone in the history of Humber College.

The paramedic loaded Annette's body onto a stretcher. Trent glanced toward his phone, still silently charging on his nightstand.

He turned his attention toward his mother. He shook his head slightly, unable to accept that she was really gone.

"Any particular reason you broke your mom out of the hospital?"

"I didn't break her out. She came here of her own free will."

The paramedic shook his head as he prepared to push the stretcher out. "Nine-obsessed freak." Though he made the insult under his breath, it was loud enough for Trent to impede his path.

"I'm sorry. Must've been my bad ear. Would you care to repeat that?" Trent's clenched tone of voice packed a lot of anger into those last six words. "I think it would behoove you to get my mother back to the hospital." In spite of Trent's anger, he restrained himself from adding 'or there are gonna be two corpses in this room tonight', but Trent was thinking it and the panicked expression on the paramedic's face suggested that he sensed it.

He raced the stretcher down the hall past the curious dormmates awakened by Trent's cries.

Trent had been in the rear stacks of the library for the last half-hour. He'd tried to put on a brave face, if not for himself, than for his mother. However, memories of her kept coming back and he just couldn't hold it in. Advanced PoliSci would have to wait.

Gwen spotted him on the way to her first class - Creative Writing - and trailed him, upset.

She came upon him, crouched down in the back. All he could do was look up at her with red-rimmed eyes.

Trent slowly but surely stood to his feet. His voice shook as he explained everything that happened.

Gwen covered her mouth, remorseful at what she assumed and deeply affected by what she had heard.

She hugged him and he returned the gesture, sobbing into her shoulder.