Through a series of convoluted occurrences, I found out that a kid I knew from high school was shot and killed a few months ago. I couldn’t find any details because the local paper charges for archive access over two weeks old.
I don’t know if I would consider us friends; what I do know is that I hadn’t thought about him since graduation—seven years now. But still, we did have some things in common (we both played the same high school sport), and I remember him being good people. It’s upsetting because the world needs all the good people she can get. It also, of course, brings in my own sense of morality, especially considering (from what I gather), the shooting was random.
So that’s that. I head out to the bar with some friends for, essentially, a pre-pre-leaving drink. I make my toast to his memory and move on.