This is a story of a guy. I didn't know much about him, I didn't know his family, I didn't know what he did in his daily life, to me he was merely just another classmate. Looking back I doubt I can myself his friend, more like acquaintances, not because I had some resentment of him, but because calling someone I didn't know about would be insulting to the other individual. All that given, I've had to ask myself "why me?"
Now here's is the few things I'm still capable of remembering. He was male, he was skinny, and had some artistic talent. I've only seen a glimpse of his abilities once. I'm not sure what happened, Either the class ended early, or the teacher wanted to do nothing that day. The point is class was boring during that time. The other students were simply bored and a guy decided to draw the face of another classmate to show off probably or to break boredom. I saw him work as well since I had nothing better to do. He drew a girls face on a white board, it was amazing how he captured her likeness with just marker (I can't draw).
One day I get home, and mother greets me. The tone of her voice was different, she was scared to death at the time. She thought I was dead, I on the other hand, was confused. My mother was listening to the news. According to the news that same guy drowned trying to impress some girls with his own car. The day after the school was eerily quiet, it was as if speaking had become a taboo. This continued finally, one of the teachers broke the news. There were moments of silence, and a funeral I didn't go to (I'm not going to lie about it).
A funeral exists for the family and loved one's. It is a time for people tho grieve, basically even if someone doesn't believe in spirits or the afterlife, it is important for the living as it is for the dead. It came to me as a surprise that the funeral may have been a disaster. I've heard a story in. which two girls came by and began to "talk shit" about the guy. Even if his death is of his own doing, I don't think the reminder is appropriate in a funeral.
Days have passed, and life returned normal, at least as much as it could get, nobody spoke of him and there was no longer that dreaded silence. One day I sat outside of my school to wait for my father, since he drives me to my home. As I waited, I heard an odd voice calling me. I rose my head quickly too see who called me. It was a guy, driving by the parking lot. Once I saw him, he made a small wave, nodded his head and then drove away. I don't know what was wrong with me at the time, all I know is that I saw a dead man wave at me and didn't realize until I was home. The reason I'm telling this story is because I fear that I will forget this event. I will never claim that I know what has happened to him. As far as I know, I might have imagined the encounter, but if he did show up, then why me?
