My night was a black one. The dark sky swallowed the city below me as I sat on the top of a parking garage, my legs dangling over the edge in the night, and my dingy car playing music behind me. For a moment I found myself alone. I looked at my hands, still stained from the charcoal I was using on a canvas just before my evening took a turn for the worst. I left my artwork alone in my dim room when my parents came home. A crow flew past the stars, ka-ing overhead as if to mock me. A somber rumble of a car pulled up the garage, parking itself next to mine. A shadow emerged from its door and walked toward me.
I saw the silhouette’s blue eyes before anything else and recognized them immediately. It was my best friend Jayden. Upon recognition, sadness flooded my vision. He hopped up on to the ledge to sit down next to me and I leaned my head on his shoulder. He put his hand in his cobalt hoodie to pull out a box of cigarettes and I watched the cool flame from his lighter burn the end. Words were rarely ever needed for us and we passed the cigarette silently to each other. I reflected on the past month’s events that led up to that night.
My sister had been in a coma for four weeks, and since then I had been red with anger. She had been hit by a car on her way to work. I was furious at the driver, with the doctors, and at God. My rage consumed me, catching me by surprise and for so long the inside of me had been burning, my face steaming. When my parents came home to tell me that there was only a small chance she would ever wake up again, I finally broke. I let my bitterness dissipate and sadness stormed me. Jay squeezed my hand and I knew that somehow I would be ok.
Jay gave me a smile, a yellow ray of sunshine in my dismal, depressed world. A light in the garage flickered on, a beam of light streaming down behind us. I let the wind carry my blonde hair and rested in the fact that I still had my best friend there beside me, if nothing else.
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