Finding shapes, primarily faces, among the swirled texture of the ceiling was among Sympathy’s least favorite way to pass the time, and yet time and again she found herself doing just that, night after night. The orange light from the streetlamps outside her bedroom window made certain she always had enough illumination to see those shapes on her ceiling. She’d tried hanging thicker curtains to block out the light but then she’d just wound up staring up into nothing all night long so she took them down. Some nights she gave up on trying to sleep and instead read books or watched movies until her alarm sounded. Then she’d get dressed, slap on some makeup to hide the bags beneath her eyes, and slog her way over to class.

Going to college had always been a dream of hers. It was the primary thing that had kept her going through high school, motivating her to study and do well so she could get into the college she wanted. Yet, here she was, full ride scholarship, on the Dean’s List, and terrified that she’s a failure just waiting to happen.

Love’s phone call had been a nice break in the monotony but it had also brought back all her worries about whether or not she was really doing what she was supposed to be doing. She was Sympathy, after all. The other Earthly Personifications often spoke about the things they’d seen, or done, or whatever. They all had stories about being summoned to different places around the world whenever something incredibly powerful related to their Personification was happening. Some spoke of those experiences with reverence, others with frustration at being pulled away and then having to find their own way back home and explain their abrupt absence to their work or family. Sympathy had never been summoned like that. Besides her just knowing that she was Sympathy and instinctively knowing the general levels of sympathy around the world, she’d never really felt or done anything that really seemed to denote her status as a Personification.

Sympathy rolled over onto her side, tucking the blankets tightly around her. She always kept several heavy blankets on her bed and the constant pressure over her body was a pleasant comfort that she’d never been able to explain. On the nightstand beside her bed, she could see the dim, blinking light on the side of her cellphone, indicating that it was in need of being charged.

Now that she’d seen it, she knew she wouldn’t be able to forget about it and fall asleep. Sympathy pushed the blankets off of her and sat up. She fished around along the side of the bed, groping in the dark until she found the charge cable and then tried plugging it into the cellphone. She tried it the one way, then the other, knowing that it shouldn’t matter which way she tried to plug it in, it ought to fit. Regardless, it took her a half dozen attempts before the plug slotted into the charging port and the screen blinked on to show it was charging. That was when she noticed she had an unread text.

Normally, Sympathy ignored her phone at night, but she’d already answered Love’s call. Why not see what the text was about.

How you doing?

It was from Misery. Immediately, Sympathy’s regret at ever giving him her number was renewed. Most Personifications almost never met each other, but in the past few decades, as technology had increased, they had begun to make a point of finding out who one another were so they could have peers they could talk to about that part of their lives that no one else would understand. Trust was the one who handled it all. Once a Personification was identified, Trust would reach out to them, explain it, and then give them the option of sharing their contact information. Each Personification could pick and choose who to share their information with, and Sympathy, at the time, had thought it only right to share hers with everyone.

It wasn’t that Misery ever said anything that was specifically inappropriate or upsetting. Rather, there just always seemed to be an undercurrent to his words that belied some ulterior motive. What was more, he seemed to behave in dramatically different ways depending on which Personification he was talking to. Trust had even warned Sympathy about Misery back when she’d been asked about who she would like to share her contact info with. Misery hadn’t been the only one that Trust had warned her about, either. That said, she still chose to share her info with them all and, so far, Misery was the only one she’d really regretted her decision on.

She was about to put down the cellphone when another text came, also from Misery.

I’m here if you want to talk. No pressure.

She stared at the message for a long time, hating Misery. He always made her feel so inadequate, as though doing her job should be easy. Then again, shouldn’t it be easy for her to be Sympathy? How could she be worse at being sympathetic than Misery? Yet he always found the right way, the right time, to reach out to her, to check in on her, when she was feeling at her worst, as though he wanted nothing more than to just rub it in her face that she was no good at being who she was supposed to be. Inevitably, she came back around to doubting herself and Misery’s supposed motivations. How could she know what he was or wasn’t doing or intending? She couldn’t read minds. Maybe Misery just happened to know she was having a hard time because of who he was. Maybe he really was trying to help her.

It’s late, Sympathy texted Misery. Going to bed.

She hesitated on hitting send. She’d stopped responding to his texts some time ago and wasn’t sure she wanted to give him that opening, that invitation for conversation again. Sympathy was about to delete her response when another idea struck her. Maybe Misery was the way he was simply because of how everyone else treated him. Were the others prejudiced against him simply because he was Misery?

As she thought about it, she began to see more similar prejudices among their group. Love had called her that night looking for sympathy, not because Sympathy was particularly good at it, but because she was Sympathy. And Sympathy had assumed that everyone love Love because of who she was, and yet Love had contradicted that assertion. Perhaps the same thing was true for Misery. Just because he was the Earthly Personification of Misery didn’t mean he himself was miserable or somehow causing everyone around him misery.

Sympathy sent the text, but first added, Thanks for asking.

It was late and she really did want to try and get some sleep tonight but she wanted to give Misery another chance. In the morning she’d text him, perhaps let him know some of what she’d been dealing with. Who knows, maybe this is what she’d been needing all along.