Sadness

I didn't know him well. I'd only met him once, for a day of writing on campus, a day when area high school students came to enjoy the kind of writing they were interested in. He was one of three students I worked with that day. Yesterday he took his own life.

I remember being awed by him. He was the kind of bright that makes a person just want to sit and chat, hear all ideas because they're good ones. He was the kind of writer that worked magic with words. He just did it. So many of us struggle to put words on paper, but his fingers flew over the keyboard. He had so much to look forward to. Or so I thought.

I don't know the particulars. I don't really want to know. I do know I wish he was still with us.

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