Twenty Eight
Saturday night a 28 year old man from my home town died in a car accident. When something like this happens to a guy my age from my home town of about twelve thousand people, there’s a fair chance I’ll know him.
And so I did.
We were class mates in primary school and middle school and spent quite a bit of time together outside of school, too - at least during the first few years of primary school. But, as it was with most of my friends from primary and middle school, we grew apart. Or something like that, at least we started to spend less time together, got new friends and different interests.
Because it’s been at least 10 years since I saw him I can’t say that his death affects me very much emotionally. Maybe I’m a cold bastard, I don’t know. Still, it’s a waste. A terrible waste.
I might show up at the funeral on Friday. If you do, too, see you there.
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