“I-I can’t look.â€? I cried, looking away. Onox nodded, and waved his hand. Then we were back in the field. “I’m so sorry.â€? he said, hugging me and stroking my hair, an embrace I am much familiar with now. Onox was my age, and he had died of a drug overdose.
“I got stupid, and . my parents had sunk me in foster care. They didnt want me… and I didn’t see the point in staying alive.â€? He had told me. He tried to hide it, but I could hear the sadness and regret in his voice.
That was a year ago. Now we are in the same field of flowers, the wet streets and blaring sirens fading away, and I close my eyes and drift into a dreamless sleep.