graduation.

They called you up. First name, middle name, last name. I didn't know your middle name and expected it to be something ridiculously Jewish that I could never spell, like Efrayim, or something, but it was only Evan.

I was playing in the band, to the left of the stage - where they were giving out diplomas. I watched you walk up. I'd been mentally preparing myself for this all week. Did I cry? Debatably, no. You shook hands with the principal, took your diploma, and walked further right off the stage. It was quite symbolic. You walked away, further from me now than ever before. Now you'll be out of my life for good.

I'll probably never see you again, dear Evan, but what do you care- you'll just go away to college in Wisconsin or wherever you're going, forget about this town, forget about your promises to visit, forget about this stupid school, and forget about me.

And I'll try to forget about you.