Samma…by G. Mramor


‘You can’t do this Peter.’

‘Hand me that will you.’ He points to the white robe.

‘Peter, look at me.’ He grabs his friend.

He looks at him. ‘I’m ready Matt.’

‘I don’t believe you man. What about Emma? What about your mom?’ His friend smiles. He lets go.

‘I’m ready Matt.’ He passes him and begins to disrobe.

He turns away. ‘I can’t, I can’t let you do this Peter.’

He removes his underwear and slips the robe over his attenuated body. He picks up the black bag.

‘I’ve let it go on too long already. I should’ve told someone, got someone. I should’ve…’ He turns toward his friend.

He smiles. ‘You’re my best friend Matt. I’m glad you were the last one.’

‘Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to your mom, and Emma, Pete, think about Emma.’

He smiles. ‘It’s time for me to go Matty.’

He puts his hands on his shoulders.

He cannot look into his friend’s eyes, he must look down. He will see his brother’s eyes now only in memory, fore the door closes and he is gone.

He walks alone down the hallway, down the stairs and out the door. He goes down the steps leading to his dorm and he goes out onto the path.

They look at him and grin. They look at him and say nice dress fag. They look at him and laugh. But he is without them now.

He follows the path to its end and walks onto the bright grass where there are some. They lie in groups, they turn they look.

Above the eight pillars of the library he reads who knows nothing of the past remains a child forever. He smiles.

And she sees the flames light.

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