It was just after work when things got surreal. When life became so awkward and fake that time just passed by unnoticed. I kept moving and speaking, breathing and being. It was the only thing that I could control in my life. It was like everything I knew had just became untrue.

“Oh my god,” she says to me. “Did you know him well?”

I think for a bit, trying to grasp onto whatever mental ledge I can find.

“Yeah,” I hesitate. “High school.” The words just fall from me, a few of the millions of thoughts stirring in my head.

Moments pass. The world pulsates every time my heart beats making it seem like I was watching some dramatic television special. Like I’m dreaming, except that I know I’m not, and so things become unacceptable and I become selfish. I manufacture every reason why this could not actually be happening. I want to scream that I’m in control, but there’s no truth to it. I try to imagine his ferocity and determination, I try to duplicate it and make it my own, but I can’t. I feel shallow. As if it were depth that killed him.