We sit in silence for a long while.

"'I was nobody.' That's what she says to me. 'I was this way for my boss, this way for my co-workers: I was this person for my parents, this person for my children, I was this person on the phone, this person with store clerks and staff. I dressed for other people, spoke and behaved for other people, spent the minutes, hours and days of my life for other people, and there was never anything left for me I read books and magazines to help me be all these different people. I spent what little time I could spare shopping and at the gym to keep thin and well-dressed, always struggling to be these people I needed to be."

Lisa speaks in a whisper and holds the picture in both hands.
"I worked ten hours a day and commuted two. I cooked, cleaned, shopped, paid bills, and was lucky to get four hours sleep a night. I told myself it was all for the children, but I always knew that was a lie. We could have done much better for the kids. We were just stamping out more versions of ourselves because that's all we knew how to do. We became just like our parents because we didn't know who else to be. That's what I'm thinking as I fall, that it's hard to be sad because I don't know who's dying. What does it matter that I'm gone if I was never really here? I'm two seconds from the end of a life that was never really mine I was all these people but I was never me, and now it's a beautiful September morning and my life is over and I don't know who to be.'"