I feel like I am a killer, a murderer of ill repute. It is probably because I did kill a very dear friend of mine, and for my own selfish reasons no less. He was only a friend for a short three and a half years, but in my short, almost, 24 years of life, he has been there a staggering 14.5% of the time.

It seems like it should have been a more momentous end. Instead it came on a brisk October morning at 5:27, placed faced down on a landscaped, brick sidewalk, wrapped tightly...

OUX