How long has it been since I had last seen him. Three years maybe. No it must have been longer. Oh I can not remember!
The picture in my hands paled in comparison to the man I had once known. Watler Jamason was a man I could have counted on at any moment in time. He always wore straight collared shirts, black slacks, and a cocky grin. His eyes burned a hole into what ever he happened to be looking at. Most importantly my soul. He was like that with every one. He always seemed to know what your true intentions were. He laughed, running his hands through his long black hair when ever he figured someone out.
Gahh what am I thinking!
I tore the frail picture in a last ditch effort to forget him. The chopped pieces falling to the carpet below my feet. I stepped away from the desk and out the door of my bedroom.
I lived alone in a tiny apartment with very little in the way of furniture. A futon against the far wall and a tiny T.V. I never watch. The kitchen was connected to the living room by a small island. The kitchen wasn't much better than the rest of the place. A few dusty cups and plates in the cupboards, and a well used coffee maker. My only joy in life.
I stepped into the kitchen with a heavy sigh. My reflection bouncing back at me from the window near the coffee maker. Gahh, Do I really look like that? My short reddish brown hair was matted from a night of restless sleep. The over sized t-shirt I wore definitely had seen better days.
I need coffee.
Before I could even reach for the filters, the door bell rang.