I closed my eyes, let it surrender to the bright yellow glare of a bulb overhead. I let the sounds of the nearby engine bathe my ears. I’ve shut my eyes and opened my ears, letting its straining auricles drink the mess of a Friday night where everyone is dressed to dine out, have fun, chatter, and giggle every chance they get because tonight, some people can’t.
I’ve let the sound of the bustling city wash away the pained cry unleashed by a woman upon hearing the news of her uncle’s death. He was shot dead. Because he was an addict.
And it didn’t matter if it was a “was” — who the hell gives a shit?
*image by Bill Williams
Sometimes, we can no longer pretend that their deaths don’t affect us.