In the car on the way out of town, it's such a beautiful sunny day. Not what you'd expect for a day such as this. Should'nt it be raining? Not pouring... Maybe just a light drizzle. But grey skies, none the less. Thinking back ten years ago, to junior high and the first cigarette. I did'nt care much for words then. Funny how I want them now more than ever. I suppose that there are no words, really.. at least none other than "thank you". So I'll say them quietly to myself before I arrive. Thank you, sir, for what you shared. For Holden Caulfield and Atticus Finch. For William Blake and Robert Frost. Thank you for making me find myself. The anxiety's building slightly because of the gravity of the situation. What do you say at a time such as this? Maybe the words will come in time... Some people are always prepared, with kind words of remorse or adulation. I'm quite sure that his wife won't care that he changed my life. So, wandering into the sea of black. Watching those quietly weeping, I embrace the thought of what should happen. "I'm sorry Mrs. Anderson." Thomas Shane Anderson (1942-2004) - "Always remember the pretty days and put the grey behind you."