
I dreamt of Robin, and when I awoke, I knew he was dead.
Robin was a man I knew for a season when I was 19.
We were never friends, though I would have been gladly that, and more, if he had given me the chance.
I hadn’t thought about him in at least twenty years, and here I was, googling him on my desktop first thing in the morning.
Continue reading “A Life Slipped Through the Cracks”