Even from across the hall her posture was unnaturally stiff. She was talking to no one and no one was talking to her. Among the laughter, and voices, and scraping of cutlery against plates, her stillness drew the eye, a mean, lonely rock in a boisterous ocean. There were other sad, isolated little islands, of course, but none is quite as miserable as one not long abandoned. She sat there stealing herself for two forlorn years, but no matter how it must have seemed irrevocable, it never was, and that resilience was the source of envy, not just among those who seemed never to be able to make a friend.