Before we go any further we should first examine Clara, not as Sense saw Clara, but as Clara saw herself. Sense knew little about the secrets that Clara hid from him. Clara had a normal upbringing in Stanford, Connecticut. She was one of three sisters. Her father always wanted a boy, and showed distaste for her existence. Her mother saw this as tough love, and was already involved heavily in an extramarital affair, one with the local pastor in her town, and the other with heavy amounts of alcohol. Her favorite drink of choice was a Cosmopolitan, though Clara’s mother drank anything that was put in front of her. Clara’s mother and father fought a lot, while Clara, her sister Danielle, and her other sister Matty, were as usual left to their own devices. Clara was the middle child of the three. Matty was the oldest, her birth name not being Matty, but Madeline, And Clara’s father’s obsession with wanting a boy, her name soon became Matty. Matty was seven years older than Clara, which made her detached from Clara and Danielle. Danielle was only seven minutes apart in age from Clara. Which made her and Clara close, very close, yet their parents couldn’t seem to care less. Clara and Danielle were alone in a family of alcohol, abuse, and adultery. And they had no idea at all.
They had no idea. The town had no idea, The Clergy had no idea,. Everyone in town were too busy to see Clara’s so called family. In the town of Stanford, which was a pretty well to do town, at least in the 80’s during the formative years of Clara’s upbringing. Her father had a good job as a dentist, and even served as a selectman, for a few years, Clara’s mother worked for the court system as a stenographer, and on the outside things looked good. But as Clara grew up, the family seemed to fall apart, and then everything changed it seemed overnight. And that was why Clara, found herself, one day in Sense’s class, a long way from Stanford, in the small town, where a school would burn, and ten years later Sense would save a life.
Sense dragged himself off the front steps of his apartment, and felt the cold, the cold feeling like he was being watched. He walked back in and saw the time on his watch. It was 7:45, the exact time that Sense would pull a few bong rips, and then walk down to the common. When Sense was in high school the library was his sanctuary but after he graduated, and his mental health failed, Sense would go to the common, and play his guitar, or write poems under the night sky. The common had an unusual glow to it, like it was made for thinkers, to sit on it’s lonely steps and pass the time staring at the night sky. There were hardly anyone ever there, and this made Sense feel comfortable, as he would watch the stars and strum lonely songs, with his bandaged heart and six string guitar.
Today Sense had a lot on his mind, as he grabbed his guitar and headed down to the common. It was colder than usual for a September night, and that made Sense feel good. The colder it was the less chances of anyone bothering him, as he strummed along to the stars, and the disagreeable lights that lit the common path. As Sense reached the common, he marveled at the feeling of cold and the bright sky. He sat down on the commons steps, lit a cigarette, and that began his evening at the common, where Sense would write the most moving and memorable song he had ever written, and by the end of it, he would meet an old friend, a troubled soul who would listen to Senses new song, and offer Sense a ride home. A new home.