found drama

The party is over, or at least dying down. A few of us have pulled chairs together into a circle to take in a drink and a few minutes rest before continuing. A woman with whom I had once been close, and whom I hadn’t seen in years, sits near me and seems to have the most to say. And as the conversation seems to be winding down, she grabs my arm and tells me that she hates to be the one to tell me but… And proceeds to tell of yet another friend–a mutual friend–one that she had known for many years, and that I had known for only a few–that this friend had set himself on fire and burned to death.

About Rob Friesel