Your Friends Are Dying | Zach Dean

September 11, 2014 8:28 PM

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Large clouds obstruct what would be a forgettable sunset and grey ocean slushes along the slimy wall of the embarcadero. The water moves rather calmly but occasionally gets agitated and during these moments splashes aggressively into the man-made barrier. The sporadic splashing sends a cool mist into the air, and my body hair stands up for a formal greeting as it makes contact with my exposed skin. A shiver originating at my tailbone crawls along my spine until it reaches my neck. Apparently uncomfortable there, it burrows itself inward and down, taking shelter in my chest cavity. The last of my body heat scoots over to make room for the shiver, but the shiver is too big, so regretfully the body heat moves away and the last of my remaining patience follows. I'm very annoyed. It is an average kind of night, and I am waiting for an average kind of friend. The kind of friend who is always late and always seems to borrow my coat. What is his problem? Does he not respect me? My time? My stuff? Why am I friends with this person?

In front of me, a bicyclist clipping along the neighboring street drops his front wheel into the train tracks. Tire exploding like an over stuffed taco, he launches over the handlebars headfirst into traffic and certain death. By luck or gymnastic knowhow, he completes the flip nearly landing on his...

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