Why is a raven like a writing desk?

.Text Claire Back.

In the early hours of morning, Claire reached over to her night table and pulled Edgar, the stuffed rabbit she'd had since she was nine, to her chest, hugging him tight. She felt like she was maybe nine again.
I could be nine, just once more, before... I think I would like that. She stared up at the dirty white ceiling and thought back. There had been strawberry lollies and long dresses that tripped her up, laughter in the sunshine. She remembered holding hands and playing games that made you scared and excited at the same time. Running. So much running.
When she had been nine, life had been a whirlwind of colour, of silly voices and plastic toys. So many smells, too. The smell of sugar, of coloured pencils, of new shoes, clean hair and that musty, comforting smell of soft carpet.
There is always something new, every day, when you're nine.
Claire stopped thinking because she started to feel sad, so she found her phone, tucked away under her pillow, and sent a text to her friend Maribelle.
Mari!! She texted quickly, remember when we stole Mr Farland's cat and dressed her up with a tiara and necklaces and everything and you didn't want her to go back, even when she started meowing and scratching us? How funny! We were so funny weren't we? And that time we ate so much of that forbidden pudding that I threw up and you told my parents it was because i'd watched a guy eating a sandwich with a baby lizard in it? Mum was so cracked up about me reacting to the lizard that she didn't care about the missing pudding. 'I've never seen anything so funny.' she laughed and laughed.
Claire stopped texting and lowered the phone. Her eyes lazily drifted over the items in her room; the little square table that held her year ten graduation photo, the little wooden chair with a plank missing at the back so bits of you sagged out uncomfortably (no one has to worry about fixing that now, she thought vaguely), the tall narrow bookcase and the rocking horse with it's fluffy rainbow tail. She felt light all of a sudden. And she felt something else.
Something darker and stronger that made her pick up her phone again and squeeze Edgar closer.
I feel like everything is going wrong and it's not just picking subjects for next year, it's everything that was good is now bad, I can't even explain it. It's like I was coasting smoothly in a car, like going down a straight highway, and then suddenly I don't know, but the car just started going faster and bumpy and to the sides, like those dodgem cars but it's not fun, and I feel like it's gong to crash and i can't stop it and i don't know how to tell anyone or what to do, i wish i knew what to do, Mari, i don't know how to make it better. It's never going to get better. I'm not even scared, i mean i was, but now it's like the best feeling, i wish you could feel it, it's floaty and dreamy and it's just peace, i think it's peace so much peace    I just want

~

Claire,
I was going to text you back. I kept thinking about it, going over in my head, 'text Claire back, text Claire back' and I was I just forgot, I mean, people forget things, ok? For fucks sake. 

~

Claire,
I'm really sorry for not texting you back. I thought about it all weekend, but I also thought that I hadn't seen you in a while and I'd see you at school anyway, so it didn't really matter if I waited. I read the first bit and then had to get ready for tennis, and you k

~

Claire,
I am so sorry that I didn't text you back. I should have.
They held an assembly at school, not that principal Mack cared, he just felt he should do something for you, so all the parents and some of the older ex-students came and he went on and on, and it was really overdone but ok. What I don't understand is why you did it. I don't get it. Like, did you even think about me? While you were 'floating' around, because, shit, i mean, shit, i mean, what is the fucking point of being your fucking friend 

~

Claire,
I miss you. I miss you now but I missed you when you were alive, too. You just didn't know. I should have told you, but I didn't think I wouldn't be able to anymore. You didn't turn up at school, and then your mum told me, and I was walking home past that old man's house and he was out mowing his lawn, and he got grass on my skirt so I yelled at him. Then I started to cry and ran off, but he just stared at me the whole time, you know how much of a perv he is. 
The thing is, I was angry at you, I was furious that you never talked to me because I feel that way sometimes, and maybe I could have helped.
I was angry because I thought you blamed me, like I was the reason, like if I had texted you then none of this would have happened. 
Claire, you were this amazing person with the brightest eyes and biggest smile, and now you're just a pretty name, how pretty your name is. I wish I could still say it. You used to make some lame joke and then laugh the loudest at it. I know we weren't best friends or anything, but you used to light up my life, whenever I saw you, you were so peaceful and gentle and adventurous and small, Claire, you were so small, why were you that small? Claire

~

How would you define 'good?'

"Goodness, Calamine! What kind of hour do you call this?" Earnest exclaimed.
Calamine turned and glanced at Earnest in a sleepy sort of way, but boomed: "Whatever are you talking about, Earnest?! Is this not the proper hour to do all sorts of things?"
Earnest thought about this while he dunked a round crumbling biscuit into his English Breakfsat tea. The little porcelain tea cup had once belonged to his mother and it had a very pretty pattern of pink flowers around the rim and made that delicate clink when placed upon the patterned saucer.
Earnest liked this clink, so he made sure to take little sips and invent numerous excuses to pick it up and put it down.
Calamine didn't like the clinking sound.
"Oh, for tiddle's sake, can you not just gulp your tea and burn your tongue like the rest of us, Earnest!" he would say throughout the day whenever he heard the offending noise. Earnest would just smile and tap his nose.
"I believe in all things green and luscious," Earnest said smartly, setting his cup down and picking up his pipe.
Calamine shuddered. "Green!" he said somewhat viciously. He set down the pile of books he'd been holding, adjusted his monocle so it sat firmly around the eye, and then gazed around at the gigantic bookcases that lined the walls of the library.
Had Calamine taken up the violin instead of joining his junior school's Book Club, none of this would ever have happened. They would never have had to go without eggs and bread because Calamine had purchased another bookcase on a whim; his arms wouldn't wake him in the night aching with the effort of holding and carrying books to and fro for most of the day; his favourite top hat would never have been squashed flat beyond repair by a stack of his favourite novels when he bumped the ladder against their shelf. He certainly wouldn't be wearing such a gorgeous and refined monocle, to say the least!
But Calamine's heart had been captivated by his very first novel, back in his frivolous youth, and had set the path for a dusty, heavy, tiresome future.
"Would you like to hear what I found when searching for pipes the other day, Calamine?" Earnest puffed.
"Not in the sl-"
"Jolly ho! Let me tell you what!"
Calamine sighed. "Is it not time we grew tired of such phrases and silly pastimes?"
Earnest looked up at Calamine with a scandalous expression one might use upon finding out their anticipated sandwich had been eaten by an unworthy nemesis. "Certainly not in this room!"
"Well I've had it!" Calamine whirled around like a ballerina practicing a complicated twirl movement, and looked his delightful Earnest in the eye. "I've simply had it up to here, all th-"
"Up to where?" asked Earnest innocently.
"Up to HERE!" Calamine shot his hand up as far as it would go in indication of how high his tolerance had gone.
"Oh, well, yes..." Earnest shook out his pipe gruffly,  "...that is quite high. But tell me THIS, Calamine dime, CAN it go HIGHER?!"
"Oh! Surely, I don- it ca-" Calamine flustered, his face turning a rather nice shade of crimson that made Earnest wish he could paint, "it couldn't possibly go higher than my hand, Earnest!"
"What... a shame," Earnest said in a pretend but entirely plausible dismal tone. He put his pipe on the little coffee table as Calamine stood glaring through his attractive monocle. He stood up and stretched.
Calamine took a step forward, "I say it's time we moved along, quite along. As far and as wide as it will take us!"
Earnest smiled, and not in the condescending way someone might smile at an overly raging person to tip them over the edge. No. Earnest smiled in adoration at his bright and practical Calamine, his companion who made lists and rows and copies, who could put almost anything in order and sort almost anything out. He had undoubtedly catalogued this very library in under two days. Earnest was so very lucky.
"Calamine, old chap. Shall we not grab a pot of coffee together and read a fancy novel? I'd very much enjoy hearing your voice while I drink."
Calamine stared. Earnest touched his top hat and bowed his head a little in an offhand gesture.
"I- I beg your pardon?"
"Oh let's! This and that can wait, Calamine! These and things and those and theys, why, they shall wait!"
Earnest clapped Calamine gently on the shoulder, and Calamine's eyes twinkled a little.
"Oh alright. I shall chose a grand tale, shall I? One of treasure and champions?"
"Tickery salubrians," said Earnest as they made their way out of the library, "whatever you like, old man."
~