The bitter, grey air clings to me, as I sit down on the grass next to the grey stone. I hug my knees to my chest, as a wave of new tears falls from my eyes. "Hey." I say aloud, to no one but him, because he's my best friend, or was. But he was, is, all I care about. So all I can do is sit here and cry, and drink beer and talk to him about anything, but I know he won't respond, mainly because he is dead. Very, very dead. And no matter how much I beg and plead, he is not coming back.
I see a flash of blond hair and blue eyes before me, and the tall boy that is known as Logan Barry Bush just sits next to me, because I knew he missed him too, not as much as I would, I mean I do, but I know they knew each other.
I turn my face, and I'm just staring into his green eyes, and we just stay like that for a while. He then intertwines my hand with his, takes my can of beer, and finishes it. Nothing needed to be said, because his actions spoke a thousand words.
That's when it all began, in the cold bitter air, an obsession rose.
