11 | O

AS SETH NAIFEH handed the antepenultimate letter to Diana Nethel, he made his presence scarce, slinking back into the dark without another word. His purpose in interrupting her peace at the rooftop wasn't to make small-talk anyways.

He could see her roll her eyes in annoyance at his insolency, knowing full well the thoughts running through her head were of his "lack of hospitality" towards his guests, the knowledge causing a small smile to grace his face.

Typical Diana, always one to be annoyed at him. It was good-natured, of course.Though their friendship had started for all the wrong reasons, Seth couldn't deny that he had grown fond of Diana.

He half-suspected she was more annoyed than usual because of his less-than-satisfactory acknowledgement of her as she had entered the house. However, he had good reason for being a 'bad host' as she would often call it, he had been engaged in a conversation with Meiji.

The memory floated back up into his consciousness.

EARLIER ON...

"I've made up with her." Meiji had said to Seth as he held a green can—Classic Carlsberg— in his hand. "Last week. We've been talking. Vanessa I mean. " he clarified as if Seth hadn't had a clue about the one and only girl Meiji had ever talked about to him.

Who was he trying to fool? Anyone with two eyes could see the chemistry the duo shared. It was inevitable that the duo would always make their way back to each other, no matter what.

Taking a sip of the beer in his own hand, he bought time for himself to formulate a response.

Seth hadn't responded as fast as he'd liked to, his eyes firmly fixed on the door while his mind whirred with thoughts on when Diana would arrive as if she didn't— the party would be useless. The whole purpose of throwing a party in his house was for her to show up as he very well couldn't directly approach her in the hallway of their school. Marie had assured him that she would. Diana Nethel never missed a party.

Meiji's hands gripped the can tighter at his slow response, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth rapidly. Seth felt a frown forming on his face.

"Am I really that terrible?" Seth had thought to himself, "That Meiji is scared of relaying this information to me?"

He tore his gaze away from the door briefly, clapping Meiji on the back.

"I'm happy for you, seriously. The pair of you were always meant to be." he said sincerely. Meiji fist-bumped him in response, looking relieved.

Seth Naifeh was as fond of the ice-queen, Vanessa Tan,as she was of him—which was about a 0. But even he couldn't deny that Meiji and her were a perfect match.

Whether it was platonically or romantically, the two were good together. Seth wasn't one to restrict friendships. Not anymore.

His throat constricted. He shook his head as he took another sip of the beer, eyes focusing back on the door and ignoring the odd look thrown by Meiji his way.

PRESENT

Diana had finally arrived at the party not long after Meiji had told Seth of the news, allowing Seth to breathe a sigh of relief that his attempts at throwing this abomination of a party were not wasted.

Seth had separated himself from Meiji to go after the girl not long after that after Meiji had claimed that he needed a refill of beer. Unbeknownst to Diana, Seth Naifeh was watching her from afar.

He watched as she decided to open the letter instead, sobering up instantly as her face grew taut and her back stiffer. Seth knew that she was beginning to read the contents of the letter. It was time to leave her alone to give her privacy.

Privacy of reading letters from Serena Wilson.

He closed the door softly shut behind him, knowing that no one else would be able to walk through the door without the passcode. Walking down the stairs, in spite of the atmosphere of the situation, he found his lips automatically shaping itself into a small smile.

With each letter he delivered to their rightful recipients, a substantial amount of weight was lifted off his chest and now, the journey was almost over.

He had honoured Serena's wishes in delivering the letters and had delivered the antepenultimate letter to Diana Nethel. Now it was time for Yasmin Asghar, Serena's oldest childhood friend whom she had held closest to her heart, to receive her letter.

***

YASMIN ASGHAR ENTERED the school compounds with her head held up high, her wireless bluetooth earphones plugged in but without music streaming. She had found it better this way, to pretend as though she couldn't hear the whispers that always trailed after her.

If they thought she couldn't hear them, their voices always became louder. It was as if they wanted her attention. As if they wanted her to snap and to tell them to fuck off.

But Yasmin never gave them that satisfaction, instead, she had learnt to simply listen amusedly to the rumours. People like that thrived off of attention, it was always best to never give them what they wanted. Others however continued to fall right into their traps and attacked them, thinking they were saints for calling them out — Yasmin was disappointed to tell them they were not.

In her opinion, those were the exact same people who tried to reap what they sowed.

The same people who wanted attention and praise for being a martyr.

The same people wearing different masks and different actions.

Sometimes, ignorance was strength. Ignorance was like armour, protecting you from finding out things you didn't want to or weren't quite ready to handle.

Besides, it wasn't as if any of the rumours were true— rather the opposite. They were ludicrous and often gave Yasmin herself a shock as to where they had gotten these rumours yet it was disappointing to admit that it was nothing new.

Yasmin Asghar, Vanessa Tan and Serena Wilson were often faced daily with a spree of whispers following them wherever they went. Whether it be about their outfit for the day, what their conversation was about or simply who they were talking to, there were always whispers and many a time, none of those whispers were anything positive.

They were alienated from their peers, causing the three of them to form a symbiotic relationship, a codependency on one another. Regardless of the other friends, the girls always came back to each other.

They depended on each other, because amongst each other they had found peace. Peace was something coveted by the girls, achieving that was like finding a diamond amongst layers and layers of coal— rare and less than likely to happen.

Yet together, they had achieved just that. But it had all since but shattered into a myriad of pieces.

Just like Vanessa, Yasmin held no fondness for the rumour-mill of Oaksville. She didn't deign herself to speak to those who spat insults through screens or behind a person's back. In her opinion, those people were cowards.

High schoolers, teens in general, rarely knew that the impact of their words lasted far longer than they could imagine. The world was already in the twenty-first century, years from the BC age and era yet people still hadn't learnt that words hurt, scarred and at times, that words could kill because physical scars were just as bad as mental scars if not worse.

Case in point : Yasmin had repeatedly been hearing comments about her bodyweight for as long as she knew. People called her many things, the most memorable one having been a 'hermaphrodite', a man-woman if you will. Simply because Yasmin had larger calves and thighs than most girls her age did.

No one realised that she was also in three sports teams which was a contributing factor towards her more muscular-build— not that that came as a surprise to Yasmin, people rarely tried to find out the origins behind things.

Teenagers always tended to project their own insecurities onto other people, Yasmin couldn't exactly blame them for that. Perhaps their upbringing had been less than satisfactory.

She knew that the only way to get them to stop was to act as if they didn't get to her. It was why she wore whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, she had once even wore a pair of pajamas just to spite those that said she couldn't pull it off— she was notorious for making the wildest fashion decisions and would go to great lengths just to prove the rumours that she could to anything.

Today, she was wearing an off-shoulder white frilled top that revealed her tan shoulders along with a pair of comfortable jeans, hair styled into a messy chignon. A regular outfit yet that seemed to draw her all the more attention.

However unlike she had been for the previous three months, today, she wasn't alone. Meridian Kohl slid up next to her as she walked through the hallways to her locker, igniting whispers from their peers and students alike as both held their breath in anticipation for a quarrel, a fight, anything.

What they weren't expecting was for Meridian to cast Yasmin a signature smirk, more so for Yasmin to return his smile. He plucked out an earbud from her ear, eyebrows mushing together in slight confusion when he realised there was no music before it quickly dawned on him what her intentions had been.

"Yasmin," he greeted, eyes scillanting with mirth. "How was your weekend?"

The two were on the path to making amends. After spending a few coffee shop visits together, Yasmin had learnt that Meridian had put to shame the stereotypes that drug-dealing criminals were not the most intelligent.

Meridian had an extremely capable memory, he had the ability to remember things easily ; from a simple coffee order to a complex mathematical equation to the origins of history buildings. In fact, Yasmin knew that he could have taken Vanessa's place for Valedictorian if not for his constant absence at classes which had caused a dent in his attendance.

Yasmin rolled her eyes in a playful manner as she pulled out her earphone from his ear and her own, all pretense evaporated as she stuffed them into her pocket. "You tell me. We literally spent the weekend together, Meridian."

"But how I viewed our weekend get-together may have been different from how you viewed it." It was clear that he was enjoying this conversation.

"I found it just fine, Kohl." she responded amusedly as she thought back to the weekend. They had hung out at each others housing, spending the time talking together and watching movies to catch each other up to date with all the events that had occurred to them over the three years. The two were building up their friendship from scratch.

"You know you don't have to speak to me all the time. I'll be fine by myself in school. You should go hang out with your jockeys."

His eyes lost some of their sparkle but the slanted smile was still present on his face,

"I made a promise," he said simply. As Yasmin opened her mouth to argue, he continued to speak reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I've already informed them that I'll be spending some time with you. Our friendship should be given more importance. It has, after all, been kept for far too long in hiatus. Good time to take a break from their crazy asses anyways."

Yasmin relented as she allowed Meridian to walk by her side down the hall. The whispers continued on. But with Meridian next to her, Yasmin felt more content than she had ever felt since Serena's passing.

She didn't feel as if she were about to crumble or that she was alone in her journey, Meridian was with her. For now, he was her light. But she was still wary, her barriers were not fully lowered yet. She may have forgiven him but the scars that she had wouldn't be erased so easily. Scars of him leaving.

"What class do you have next?" he asked, bringing Yasmin out of her thoughts. Closing one eye, Yasmin mentally conjured up an image of her class schedule before responding.

"Physics with... Mr Scott... which is in the opposite direction of where we are currently moving." she stopped abruptly in her tracks, "I better get going."

Meridian was quick to respond as he held up a hand, pausing her from leaving. "Hold up, I have geography and it's along that hallway, I'll walk you to class. Just wait here while I get my books."

Yasmin raised her eyebrows. She knew for a fact that most of the humanities classes were exactly in the direction that they were currently heading in. If anything, she didn't need coddling by Meridian if he was scared of the rumours affecting her but nonetheless gave a curt nod in response, knowing that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

He immediately started walking off in the other direction as Yasmin stood to the side, arms crossed as she stared into the distance, daydreaming.

It wasn't just because of the fact that Yasmin knew Meridian's inability to accept her rejection of his offer that caused her to agree to him walking her to class, she agreed because she knew that it didn't mean anything to just have some company.

Sometimes, having someone to support you made all the difference, even if it was just one person. Just one person could make a world of a difference, it could mean the difference between staying and leaving— that was how important a single person was.

Yasmin wished more than ever that she had been the one important person for Serena, that she could have been there sooner. She knew much of what the young seventeen-year old hid from the rest of the world but how had she missed the signs? How could she not have seen that Serena had been more emotional lately? Seen that she was more distant?

It was something which Yasmin constantly kicked herself for. She had been so focused on her academics, so focused on scoring well for her senior year, that her mind turned into a one-lane thought, not paying attention to her surroundings nor anything that wasn't in the direct-line of her vision.

She'd lost her best-friend because of that. And she didn't know if she would ever forgive herself.

A black dot started to come towards her from her peripheral vision. She frowned as she turned her head to the side, now being able to see the black dot lucidly, her frown morphed into a surprised expression as the dot materialised into Seth Naifeh.

He was coming towards her.

***

TO SAY YASMIN Asghar was shocked to see Seth Naifeh approaching her was an understatement. After all, in the aftermath of the accident that shattered their entire friendship, he had made the relationship between them quite clear.

She doubted that there was any good reason he was approaching her.

As he stood to the side of her, Yasmin kept her gaze fixated on the floor, feigning ignorance at his presence.

He let out a cough.

"What do you want, Seth?" she said, still not facing him.

"I'll be out of your hair soon. You just need to give me 3 minutes of your time."

Begrudgingly, she turned her head towards his. Although Yasmin was 5'7 and towered above most girls her age, Seth still had a good 5 inches on her. She detested having to elevate herself to face him.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the air between the former best-friends thick with tension.

Yasmin finally acquiesced her silence as she spoke with a hard look on her face. "If you're looking for Meridian, I'm afraid he's not here at the moment."

Seth's face twisted as he expressed a silver of emotion before straightening his face again. He shook his head as he spoke,

"I'm not here for Meridian."

It was only then that Yasmin's eyes caught the letter he held in his extended hand. It was packaged in a neat envelope, sealed tightly with her name written across it.

She looked suspiciously at the envelope then back at the male in front of her, putting two and two together. She let out a short scornful breath.

"A letter? What's the occasion?" she asked, "Finally realised what you did was wrong? What, is it filled with apologies or rubbi—"

"It's from her." he interrupted her.

Yasmin's pupils expanded in shock. Without another crude remark in his direction, she snatched the letter from his hands, turning it over in her own hands in disbelief— as if she didn't quite believe that her best-friend had written her a letter.

"And for the record," he spoke again, his voice gruff. Yasmin's head snapped up to meet his sorrowful-eyes. "I realise that what I did was wrong. I was hurting but that's not an excuse for my actions. I can't take back the past either but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you and Serena."

Yasmin didn't respond, overwhelmed with the revelation of a letter. Seth didn't wait for a reply either. Satisfied with his job being done, Seth retreated as quickly as he had come.

"Hey," Meridian's voice came back to her as Yasmin stared hard at Seth's retreating back. "What did Seth want?"

She turned around to face him, "He...he apologised and gave me this letter." she confessed before adding, "It's from Serena."

Meridian's expression darkened as his eyes caught sight of the letter, eyes dawning as she said the deceased girl's name. Yasmin noticed this and voiced aloud,

"Why? Have you seen something like this before?"

He cast a furtive glance at the letter as he locked eyes with her, responding truthfully. "Yeah. She gave one to me too."

***

YASMIN ASGHAR DROPPED her bag into her room, the fuschia-pink walls she had painted when she was six had all since faded into a just-tolerable peach colour, the walls were showing their wear and tear with more frequent and obvious cracks appearing.

Not wanting her parents to plan their already-tight financial budget to incorporate her redecorations, she had told them that she hadn't minded the cracks. Yasmin had always been a glass half-full type of person ; looking at things from the positive aspect. If anything the cracks gave the walls a texture that looked to be quite pretty in her eyes.

After Meridian had told her he had received a letter too, the pair began to realise that perhaps, they weren't the only ones to have received a letter. They had no idea how close to the truth they were.

Meridian, having had some experience with reading the letter, had told her it was best that she read it when she came back home where no eyes lurked to achieve the best privacy that was required by the letter. She had obeyed— resisting the terrible itching urge to open it during school hours—and finally, after what felt to be the longest 8 hours of her life, she was back home. In her bedroom. Privacy.

Even so, as she flipped over the letter, she hesitated.

Was she ready to read the last words from Serena?

She doubted she would ever be. Who ever really was ready? She didn't want to begin reading the letter because with every beginning, there was an end. And at the end of this letter, Serena would well and truly be gone. A final close.

Could she accept that?

One step forward, three steps back ; receiving a letter had thrown Yasmin off her semi-stabilised axis. Since attending her funeral, Yasmin had accepted many things ; accepted that Serena would not return, accepted that their last conversation would be about 'hot cheetos' and 'boys' yet now that she had a letter, it made things so much more different.

What lurked in that letter was forever. There was no going back once she read it. The more pragmatic side of Yasmin however, argued that if she didn't read it, she would be left in a state of denial. A state of regret, regret of not knowing what her best friend had wanted to tell her.

The past wasn't a palimpsest, it couldn't be altered even in the slightest.

There was always going to be an end, whether she read the letter or not, it wouldn't bring Serena back.

With less-than-eager enthusiasm, Yasmin opened the drawer of her desk, taking out a letter opener. Grasping the letter opener, she slid it over the glued opening of the letter, unfolded the paper and began to read.

***

DEAR YASMIN

I don't know when you'll be getting this letter but when you do, there is no doubt in my mind that you definitely argued with yourself for (an exaggerated) three hours before opening this so, let's not waste anymore time and get on with it— shall we?

Before you continue reading this, I just have one request of you : Never blame yourself. Please. I've had to tell at least 5 other people that they don't have to blame themselves for my death ; you are one of them. Because I know that your soul would be burdened with my death. I'm asking you to let go. Let go of that burden, let go of me.

It was always going to end like this. And don't you dare tell yourself ways where you may have helped or even dream that there might have been an alternate ending. There's no point doing that. I'm gone, for good.

Letting go doesn't happen overnight but either way, as long as that's engraved into your system, good. It will be a journey. But it's possible.

Yas, Yas, Yas...

You're the last one I'm writing a letter to. If you're receiving this, it means that the other letters I wrote are enroute or have been delivered. I'm sorry, I'm sorry that entering my life has once again resulted in failure, that I'm hurting you again and— wait, I'm meandering. That isn't the point, at least not yet anyways. My apology is coming later.

Against her own self, Yasmin let out a small-choked chuckle. Serena was always the one with a dramatic sense of humour, the one to attempt to arbitrate and diffuse a tense situation. She wiped away at the tears that threatened to fall, she wasn't even at the emotional bit yet and she was already shedding tears— god.

I wanted to write your letter last because I knew that there'd be so much that I'd want to say but if I were to say it all, it'd be endless. I mean, I only have this paper and I intend to use it to its fullest. This is the rise and fall of my story, my final adieu to you, my best-friend of over 10 years and I hope that at the end of this, you'll be at peace with what I did.

The ink seemed to bleed at this particular paragraph, a dried-wet splotch that looked as if it was the remainder of a tear. Yasmin took a deep breath, preparing herself as she ploughed on in reading the letter.

It started with the accident. The accident which tore our entire friendship apart that fateful night when Seth's father died in a crash, killed by two drunk-drivers who were coincidentally, Meridian's parents. Seth's father was picking us up from someone's birthday party that night, the name of whom over the years has slipped from my mind. The event was so insignificant, it was just another party yet this one was the one that changed everything.

That was the start of my downfall, coupled with anxiety attacks, eating disorders and a myriad of other problems, I wasn't doing well. I may have seemed perfect, but inside, I was crumbling. I couldn't keep up my convivial facade for much longer.

For most, if not all, of the past year, I laid in bed crying every single day. It wasn't as if they were for any real reasons though, I had to be grateful for everything I had. I had a family, I had friends, I had good grades— what wasn't there to be happy?

The human mind is a beautiful thing, turning against you when you least expect it ; MY mind became the central hub of negativity. Day after day, my brain was flooded with negativity, all positivity exponentially eradicated, until I just couldn't see straight anymore.

Compliments faded into insults and rhetorical questions because I am not perfect like they say, the best like they say, I am not smart like they say and I am most certainly not pretty. I am however, everything else they said— liar, ugly, fake, murderer. That was the anxiety back and better than ever.

The second largest voice was the next one to come back— the voice that belonged to my eating disorder.

I spent two years on-and-off seeing a therapist and even attending that prestigious clinic with Olivia, but it didn't matter that I was basically recovered and happy— the voice came back. It came back when my anxiety came back and it wrecked me again.

Taunting me each time it saw a skinny girl, asking me why their bones were showing everytime they flicked their wrists yet mine didn't ever show. It didn't matter that I was already dangerously underweight— it wasn't enough. It was never enough. My arms had too much fat, my legs had this odd curvuture and my jaw was too...pungy. In my own eyes, there were so many imperfections, things that needed improvement, needed fixing. Day after day, the voices grew louder.

One voice was already hard to deal with, now I had two to deal with simultaneously, not to mention the constant harassment Jake put me through and my parents constantly arguing about where I was to go for college. It wasn't even the bullying that was my tipping point though lord knows I had expected it to be, it was everything else.

Most of all, I hated myself. I hated myself for being weak, allowing my demons to come back yet again and falling prey to them.

Maybe I was really just weak, to not be able to withstand this pressure that was so normal, that most of the older folks would call me foolish for but was I really? Was I really foolish for taking their words to heart? The countless insults, the whispers, the comments— was I really?

Maybe I was but now I'll never know. Because I'll be six feet under hearing their opinions and fake sobs.

Ugh, just the thought is enough to make me puke out my lunch— oops, dark joke. Seriously though, I hate that everyone pretends to like me when I'm gone. I hate that.

TLDR : It was never you. It was the voices, Jake's ongoing harassment, every negative external factor. It was that. That was what led me to my downfall and decision. That is the falling part of this letter.

Now let's go upwards from here.

Another ink-blotch but this time it was Yasmin's. A steady stream of tears started flowing down her cheeks. When Serena had relapsed into her eating disorder, she had stopped eating lunches with Yasmin but the girl had assured her that she was eating her lunches with Declan. Being preoccupied with other activities at the time— given Yasmin was juggling several other extracurriculars— she had immediately assumed that Serena was telling the truth.

She could have smacked herself ; Declan and Serena never shared free periods, never. They had clashing school schedules, it was impossible for them to have shared lunches together. She was a fool.

Her breaths started quickening and her eyes widened in alarm as she realised what was happening— she was having an anxiety attack. Almost to the point of hyperventilation, she tried to think what Serena had said in the beginning. Don't blame yourself. Don't blame yourself. Don't blame yourself.

A mantra she repeated until her breath slowed and became steady.

Don't blame yourself.

Serena had told her this for a reason. For her to understand, because she knew Yasmin was strong enough to handle the truth. She continued on reading, it could only go up.

Of course, in the beginning when the voices had begun to return, there was a decent clash of positive things. Albeit they grew lesser everyday causing my range of sight to narrow, they were still there.

It was the small things that count.

The small conversations you tried to initiate ( but I couldn't respond because I was always too damn tired, god damn you stupid ED ), the jokes we shared with Vanessa, you standing up for me when Jake approached me in the halls, everything else— you are stronger than you realise, so much stronger than me.

You'll be fine. You'll make it through.

Yas, we made so many memories through our ten years together, things that I can't even pen down on paper because there are just too many ; the food carnival, the photobooth set-up, the handshakes we created, everything. Everything that seemed so insignificant back then is only now hitting me. There were so many things we did together.

Those were our memories, I wish we could have made more, an endless amount but for that to happen, I'd have to live. And I didn't want that anymore.

Sometimes, I wished I had been given more time, time to try new things, to wear that purple dress I'd been eyeing forever, to eat weird-combinations of food like fries and ice-cream, more than anything, I wish we could've gone to the senior ball together —but it's too late for that.

I've accepted and made peace with the fact that I'll only have these limited memories and experiences. I was never cut out for life, I don't think I have been since I lost Seth those years ago.

I'm eternally grateful to have made those with you, and even more so to have had the privilege to call you my best friend. Yas, you were my biggest confidant. Everything I shared with you, you shared your advice, words of wisdom and for a while, they helped. They were like super glue, holding me together. Keeping me from falling apart. But, even super-glue only holds for so long. In the end, the voices always won. It was a battle I was sick of fighting.

I'm sorry. But I'm not unhappy now because I always knew this life wasn't cut out for me. If there's such a thing as rebirth, maybe next time I'll be happier.

I wish that I could've been the friend for you, wished that I could've done more for you, repaid you for standing by me through it all— the insolent comments, the bullying, I wish I could've shown my gratitude to you but my time is up.

I thank you for everything, thank you for making my life better. I wish I could've been better. I'm sorry for being so selfish but I just couldn't find the strength in me to continue living anymore

Yasmin, thank you for always doing what you do best and reassuring me. Don't let what happened to me, cause you to distance yourself from everyone alright?

Have a bit of high school ( or what's left of it ) fun, maybe a bit of romance too, try out for the debate team, go to prom— I don't need to list it all do I? You know what you want to do before highschool ends.

Don't let my death ruin your entire list of resolutions. Enjoy yourself Yas.

Do things you probably won't be able to do once you become legal ( cough graffitti the lockers cough ), make memories with people and just have fun.

In August when you graduate, I'll be watching you from the skylines, beaming with pride as you throw that black-cap up in the air and shout "Class of 2018!".

I'll always love you, so, so much.

Remember that.

FOREVER WITH YOU,Serena

P.S check the envelope ;)

Reaching the letter's end, Yasmin glanced at the envelope she had carelessly tore open earlier. Yasmin shook the envelope — a paper crane falling out with the rigour of the shake.

Serena was dexterously talented with her hands, she was able to craft a myriad of amazing objects out of paper. It was part of her culture, being Chinese, to be able to construct those. The paper crane seemed ridiculously derisory, such a small object to compensate for such a big loss. But to Yasmin, the small paper crane held a world within its folds— literally.

She picked it up with trembling hands. A paper crane symbolised peace, love and healing during challenging times. Serena hadn't just made a paper crane for no reason ; she had made it for Yasmin. For Yasmin to find peace within herself.

Yasmin pulled the crane closer to her chest, and whispered. An inadequate attempt but it was all she could do. She whispered to the crane as if it were Serena herself, whispered her apologies for the friend she'd lost, for those times she could've helped. Whispered for those lost times, let the tears streaming down her face get carried away with the gentle breeze.

Yasmin was a prudent person, she dealt with things using her head rather than her heart. There had been more than one letter and one person knew who all of the letters had been directed towards. She knew what she had to do.

It was time to give Seth Naifeh a ring.