My friend, where are you?

I am here and I am watching at the flowers. I could not help, just pass a call, as fast as I could. But I knew it was too late.

My friend is lying in the green grass with a red stain on his shirt. He is smiling, with his eyes open. He is dead. Or is he not? His body isn’t filled with life anymore. Although he is smiling, he will never laugh again with me, here on earth. I am looking at his green eyes.

I am sad. Where is he now? Is he still lying here with me or is he somewhere else? I am looking at the grey clouds. Is he up there in the sky? I can hear the ambulance coming. Too late. Why is he dead? Just another gangland thing? A bullet, hitting the wrong target? The other man, who has been hit on the footpath, is bleeding as well, but he is alive. He should be dead, not my friend here in the grass.

The stain is growing. His mother is coming. She falls to her son on the ground, crying. She asks why. Tears are running through her face and men in white lab coats are running through the grass. It all looks like a movie, but it isn't one.

I am pushed away by a police officer. I haven’t even noticed their presence. More and more people are surrounding my friend. Pressmen have arrived and so have my parents. I am retreating from this site of crime. Where is he now? He isn’t in this body on the grass anymore. He will be my friend forever, no matter where he is or what he is.

This bullet could have hit me and I would be the dead body instead of him. But I was passing the ball to him and then he was running into the ballistic curve of this bullet. And then I saw the blood. I saw the car with the killer and I saw the man on the footpath. And I saw my friend dying. Can I see worse?

I will attend school as if nothing had happened and he will be absent. I will continue, until maybe one day a bullet will hit me. Then I will be the innocent victim.

Maybe one day I will see him again, my friend. Maybe then we can continue our soccer game. Maybe then, we will laugh together again. Maybe.