2018-02-02 - 7:47 p.m.
At the new corner bar last night, a cozy neighbhorhood place, an acquaintance told me her 14-year-old son died of a fentanyl overdose a few months ago. Shook me up real good. She almost cried and I knew with great certainty, after I told her I was very sorry but before I hugged her, that she'd been spending a lot of her time crying. It's really awful. You can't take that back, that kind of dumb mistake by a moody 14-year-old kid who played video games. I only saw him once. He had dyed-green hair and was no longer a kid, but instead almost fully grown, much taller than his brother younger by a few years.
I don't know her well. I see her at the community garden now and then. She teaches marketing and graphic design at a couple of colleges. She enjoys weeding. All she talked about was her kids.
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