Time.  Time again.  She hadn't know him long.  Surely she didn't need to grieve this much.  When had time mattered to the soul?  They had connected--their soul's had touched.  And now he was ripped away.

He was just a name to them.  Another tragic statistic.  "A terrible accident."  They called it.

An accident!  It hadn't been an accident when that kid had downed beer after beer with no thought as to how he'd get home.

But I should learn to forgive.  My anger will hurt me more than him.  I need to let it go.  Move on with my own life.

Platitudes.  What do they know.

He was stolen from me but some stupid kid.  Some kid who doesn't even know us--doesn't care.

My pencil tore through the page.  I turned it over.  A dark mark marred the next page--like a stain.

I stared at it.  Taking my eraser, I rubbed over the mark.  It faded, but would not disappear.  I could cover over it with words.  But it would still be there that mark, that stain.