Dylan..."Eight letters, eight letters were enough to shake the floor under my feet.I sat on my couch, desperate."What happened to him?" I have no idea...of WHAT, actually... His parents were so upset about the atrocious loss, none of us had the courage to ask anything more than what we've been told by them."Atrocious loss? My heart stopped beating for one, infinite second."Are you really telling me... that... he."I couldn't even end my sentence, my mother had to the ingrate job for me: "Dylan is. She wrapped it around herself and we all stood there somewhat awkwardly.“I need a Diet Coke”, I said breaking the silence.“Me too”, said my friend.“I need to get fucked”, interjected the flatmate with a giggle.My friend giggled and said something in their language. Both girls blushed.“Why do I feel like this is about me?”, I joked.“Oh, because it IS about you”, replied my friend as we headed out of the bathroom.We grabbed our drinks from the fridge and walked out to the small balcony. There was. More

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