Rain’s making my nose runny, my shirt is stuck to my body and has become transparent in some awkward spots on my body.
I listen to my vintage black and white Wingtip shoes clicking against the paved road. I can’ stop thinking of him. I’d met him when we were six, and since then, we were inseparable. And then I killed him.
My tears are almost indistinguishable from the rain. I killed him with my bare hands, and walked in his funeral. I hugged his mother, and she told me that I was her second son.
I killed him. Why did I kill him?
The red and blue lights are blinding me.