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Wake up, Jessie.

Jessie… wake uhhh-up.

… Jessie?


Jessie opened her eyes, stared into the darkness. Every time she drifted away like that it got harder and harder to come back. Sleep always tugged at her, dragging her eyelids shut, making it soooo easy to give up and let the dreams take over.

This last time, she and Lisa Simpson had been playing hopscotch on the sidewalk in front of Lisa’s house, while Bart watched them from an upstairs window. Jessie had felt uncomfortable under Bart’s gaze, but Lisa had told her not to sweat it.

“He’s just jealous,” she’d said. “Nobody wants his key chain.”

Then the angel called to her and Jessie woke up.

She lay there, thinking of the dream, feeling the angel’s warmth soak through her body and shield her from the cold of the box.

Without the angel she’d be dead. Jessie was sure of it.

Her protector. Her savior. That’s what the angel was. Always pulling her back from the brink whenever she drifted off too far. Because if she drifted off too far, she’d never come back.

Ever.

At first, the angel was nothing but a voice. A sweet, melodic whisper that filled her dreams, telling her not to give up. Help was coming.

“I know it looks bad,” the angel sang, “but the glass is half full, Jessie. That’s something you always have to remember. You’re Jessie Glass-Half-Full.”

The voice grew stronger over time, louder, but no less melodic. A sweetness that soothed the soul.

But this time, it was more than just a voice. Jessie had seen a face to go with it.

She was playing with Lisa, worrying about Bart, when the sky grew dark and a full moon lit up the street and a face appeared on the side of the moon, a pale but beautiful young woman with melancholy eyes.

Wake up, Jessie.

Jessie… wake uhhh-up.

Jessie had stared at her, thinking, I’ve seen you before. Where have I seen you?

Then her eyes opened and the face was gone, and the darkness of the box spilled into her consciousness and she was once again alone and frightened and wanting to cry, but at the same time feeling that she wasn’t alone, that the angel was watching over her.

Glass half full, Jessie thought. Glass half full.

Then she remembered where she’d seen the angel’s face, and she knew, with irrefutable certainty, that everything would be all right. The glass wasn’t just half full, it was filled to the brim and spilling over. Two, three, four glasses couldn’t contain the optimism that flowed through her veins.

But as soon as she thought this, Jessie Glass-Half-Empty reared her ugly head again like some horror-movie demon who can’t be killed. No matter how many times you strike her down, she rises up, over and over, stronger and more determined than ever.

Don’t waste your energy, kid. Hope is for fools.

Nobody’s gonna find you, not way down here. There’s only so much oxygen in those tanks and sooner or later it’ll all be gone and then what are you gonna do? Huh?

You’re gonna die, that’s what.

Die, die, die.

Hell… you’re already dead.

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