Time: PresentWord Count: 2802(This story contains: death, mention of drugs and drinking)SAMPLE: (1153 words out of 2802 words)......................The page ends there and I have a hollow empty feeling in my stomach. I do not want to read more. After glancing over to make sure the kids aren’t choking or fighting, I flip to page 14 and scan the obituaries until I find it.Mike Remer was born February of 1976.He Just Died.He is getting buried at Willmourn cemetery.-Samuel Jones, ReporterI just stare at the short note, pity and anger bubbling up inside me. The plainness and deliberateness of this note is like venom. For one last time, I glance over at my three children now playing ‘Pass-it-on’— a game that they made up consisting of passing unwanted food around the table to each other— before I am swallowed by my thoughts… My memories of a boy named Michael.It was a hot summer day in the middle of July, when I was out with Michael. He and I hung out often because he hated it at his home. Mike had grown up with the wrong parents in the wrong neighborhood. His brother was downright creepy and I was his only way out. Sometimes he would let his fury burst out on me since he had no one else to let it go on. At those times I was patient with him, showing him the beauty of the earth and calming him. He was always very pleased and we were the best of friends. Then there was that July day when it all went wrong.Michael came out of the convenience store, his hands laden with candy and rub tattoos. “Hey Sarah,” he said in his cool tone.“Hello Michael,” the beautiful girl on the bench answered back. She had been waiting for him, and as he took a seat beside her, she asked him what he had gotten.“Got some Paydays, Snickers, Babe Ruths, and some rub tattoos.”“How much?” Sarah asked him, holding out change to pay.Michael looked hesitant. “Uh…No that’s fine. I’ll pay for it this time.” He had always been a bit touchy with money, mainly because he didn’t have much of his own. He turned slightly pink and rummaged through the bag of goods, pulling out a Snickers, on which he started to chew. “Want one?” he asked Sarah, tossing her a Payday. She caught it with one hand but looked at him suspiciously. Never, although she knew he greatly wanted to, had he ever been able to buy anything for her because of his cruel, hating parents and brother. Why should this day be any different?“You didn’t steal anything…did you?” she questioned. Michael stopped midway through a bite of his candy.“Steal?” He grew more red and the stuffed the Snickers in his mouth, chewing rapidly. “Why would I steal anything, Sarah?” his muffled voice asked.