I was looking out the window, when I saw him. That same face of an innocent, young man hiding the pain of carrying the weight of the world.
I knew him since I was younger. He used to walk that street to school. He was a nobody; never seen for the good things he’s done.
Standing here from a distance, I was just looking at him being photographed by people. He was not doing anything. He would be seen in the news later in the evening.
You could actually see fear on his face as you look at him very closely. He’s staring right at me, who was standing by the window of an old abandoned house from a distance, three doors down from where his body laid. Yeah, it’s my body.


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