Seventeen.
Late July.
Rough-cut lumber.
A girl and her father.
A white Ford Explorer.
West Virginia route 220.
A CD.
A song.
An urge.
A voice crying out.
A verse filled with pain.
A heart.
Empty.
Hollow.
Broken.
A man.
Desperate.
Looking for help.
A set of eyes.
Deep.
Brown.
Etched into a memory.
A CD.
A song.
A battle cry.
A cry for hope.
A cry for help.
A cry of fear.
A breath unfinished.
A moment ended too soon.
A light gone out.
A tomorrow never seen.
Strength that didn't last.
Tears that should have fallen.
Tears that didn't fall.
Couldn't fall.
Wouldn't fall.
Hearts broken.
Hundreds silent.
Hours.
Days.
Weeks.
Months.
The thought of a bad dream ending.
Vanished.
Reality.
All too hard to swallow.
Setting in.
Two words.
No one wanted to accept.
He's gone.
