There is a hole in the world where my friend used to be.
An empty space.
It leaves flotsam in its wake. A name and photo at the top of my message list. I can’t erase that. I won’t erase that. But that space will never contain a voice again.
After arriving in San Antonio, I took a look around and said, Fuck’s sake, I got here just in time.
I was wrong.
I did not get here in time.
I was too late.
My friend is gone.
And Grief is at my door. Again.
Fuck you, Grief. You are a bad guest.