SO WHEN YOU'RE DEAD AND GONE WILL YOU REMEMBER THIS NIGHT? Long nails scratched through Eryn's head as she looked at the boxes infront of her. She teared them open and blankly stared at the notebooks. Her fingers ran over the rough black cover. She took the heavy pages and flipped through them, the scent of photocopied paper filtering her nose. The pages cracked when she turned them, from lack of writing. Then, out fell a rose. A dried, flat crimson rose. Jane's favorite. It was then Eryn realized how much she missed her.