The puddles are for walkin in.
Rain continued into the early morning. I got to the library early, finding a light blinking on the answering machine. I hit the button and began to go through the book drop as the message played.
“Hey, boss,” Dave’s voice said, “I won’t be in for a bit. Dad took a turn for the worse last night. He died at the hospital. I’ll be back on Tuesday.”
I replayed the message. Dave’s stoic tone broke at the the words “worse” and “died.” If you did not know the man you would not have heard it, but Dave and I have been partners at this library for nearly ten years now. I heard the pain in my friend’s voice.
Thinking on it, I do not know a whole lot about Dave. He was born here, his dad is the town’s dry cleaner. I was a freshman in high school when Dave was a senior, so that would put him at around 35 but I am not sure because he never celebrates his birthday. I remember him because he lead the computer team to finals by programing a game based on Quigley Down Under.
Imagine that mustache pixilated.
I know for a fact he was in the Army. Or Air Force. Something like that, but he never held a gun. I think I remember my mother saying something also about him being kicked out, but that is just not something you ask someone about. Not much casual conversation to be had there. “So, y’ever been kicked out of any branch of the armed forces? Who wants tacos?”
Either way, I know my friend Dave is hurting right now. Keep the man in your thoughts.
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