• Short Stories

    Dreamers

    My friend died last year at around this time. He was my best friend in the whole wide world, and we would always do everything together. We would go biking, skateboarding, play video games and swim together. We would hang out often because my parents were busy and never had time for me. Then he got run over by his own dad in a car “accident.” I hated his dad. His dad would always send me home early and always smelled remotely similar to the rubbing alcohol in my bathroom at my house. Sometimes, my friend would show up to school with bruises on his face, but when I asked…