One girl I knew died in the Bataclan attack. She was not my friend. We spent some holidays together through common friends and we, in fact, did not like each other. I was stupid and she was mean. Our last exchange was cold. Still, I think about her sometimes. I remember her face. I wonder how she died, how she felt, what she saw before she was gone. I do not remember her name. Tiphanie maybe. Our common friend was traumatized and we never really spoke about it. I wish all arabs would die, I hate them so much. Men, women, children.