“If I was a writer and I wanted to stage a woman’s death, this is where I’d put it; right down there in the mud.”

They were half way through an industrial park in a tunnel. Overhead there was a canopy of burdened chain link fence. The walkway that Simon and Paul stood on was a good six feet above the road. A girl could fall head first onto the caked mud below and just die. Quite possibly, she could be found later in the bushes around Brookside Park.

Paul was trying not to let anger get the best of him. He still had questions for Simon.

“Why would a girl die there?”

Simon looked into his friend’s eyes and made sure that Paul saw that Simon wasn’t looking away.

“Because a girl can be clumsy when she’s drunk.”

“If there was anybody around, why didn’t they help her? Why didn’t they call 911?”

“Maybe he was drunk too, maybe she was dead when she hit the ground, maybe he was a two time offender that couldn’t, wouldn’t go back.”

“Maybe she wasn’t dead.”

Paul was grasping to the polished rail with everything he had.

“She was.”

“Why would one tell the brother?”

“He was tired of that question hanging in the air.”

“Well, there’s really no more questions then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes and pathetic and everything I don’t want in a best friend.”

Simon walked away. Two men diverged under the noon sun in an industrial park; friends since the age of five and never to meet again.

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Tavia
    Apr 07, 2011 @ 15:12:31

    Aww, I was hoping Paul would be understanding. Though, to be fair, Simon does seem like kind of an a-hole…


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