The sun is coming up, and I still haven't even attempted to sleep. I was eating a bowl of Cheerios when some random neurons spontaneously fired and brought back a rush of memories of the day eleven years ago when I was lying in bed sharing a cigarette with that beautiful blue-eyed boy. We had just finished having some of the best sex I've ever had and sat in naked, legs intertwined, singing "Dreams" by The Cranberries to the top of our lungs. I always loved that song, mainly because of the episode where Angela was lying in bed daydreaming about doing dirty things with Jordan Catalano.
It's hard to believe that gorgeous, naturally toned body is rotting away six feet under now. I wonder if anyone ever visits him, besides maybe his mother. I wonder how often she thinks about him. I wonder how long it had been since she had last hugged him before she saw her little white haired boy lying in a coffin. I wonder who he was with when he died, or even how he died.
I didn't find out about it until a year after it happened--about the time Sharon died, actually. I randomly bumped into Alex, the only guy he had ever actually dated for more than a month or two. Apparently Justin went downhill and started hanging out with the wrong crowd. Alex wasn't sure if it was the AIDs or meth that killed him.
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