Things that are forever

On the surface, everything looked the same in the little cafe that morning. Sunshine poured in the large streetside windows like it usually does. The art and music students huddled around the tables like they usually do. But something was different. The happy, hectic atmosphere was gone. The classical music was turned down low. People spoke in hushed tones. The place was eerily quiet.

Finally, someone told me what had happened. A few hours earlier, there had been a traffic accident nearby. And one of the students, a quiet young man who was everybody's friend, had been killed.

August 14, 1995
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