"Aye, Dean" Greg, his friend of two years, said as he walked out the school gates.
Dean wasn't in the mood for people, he never was since she died. When Lucky died so did the cheerful part of him.
It shattered and was thrown into the fire, never to be found again.
When Dean didn't respond he continued talking anyway.
"How have you been?"
"I've been good."
"Don't lie, you look like shit that took a shit and that shit had babies, man even that shit's shit looks better than you." He said laughing.
He had expected Dean to give him a smile or even laugh or even cuss at him for using human droppings as a way to describe how Dean looked, but he didn't do anything.
Greg's phone rang, it was his mother, who came to fetch him from school.
Just like that Greg left, making his way back to school to meet his angry mother.
Just like that Dean was alone and he didn't give two shits about it.
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NouvellesThey say that the worst pain one can feel is letting go and for Dean Janson, a boy shattered by the death of his first love, it seems that the last thing on his mind is to let Lucky Sims go.
