DarkCloud

We were silent, standing in his darkening apartment, and I tried to imagine what the world was like for him. A life without luck. A dreamless existence. A black and white world. His name is Sammy, and He’s a friend of mine.

Sammy lost his wife to the Devils suicide. They were married for about a year. I remember her blond hair made wild by the wind, as she bent out of the drive through window, giving me change for my coffee. Sue’s bright smile, made honest by the sun. She loved her man with a deep, sad love that could never leave her soul. Sammy wanted to love Sue back, but couldn't because of his self.

Every passing moment after Sue’s death, Sammy wanted to enter prison. But it took too much planning a crime for him to do it. The sweet thought of life lived where you didn't have to make any decisions, made Sammy even more depressed-because he wanted that lifestyle so much, but knew he couldn't have it. A life lived without luck is a life not worth living. Yet, this sad man lives on.

Today, we are together at his apartment. I watch the man people call DarkCloud passed out on top of his pile of unpaid bills that sits upon his desk. I see the gun, and the glass of Bourbon made neat resting by his head.  Sam dripped sadness all his adult life. No one understood why. They just avoided him and his walking depression. I’m one of them.

It’s been two years since I’ve seen him. I look in the papers for his name.