Shadows of Friendship

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


It was his need that broke me. I knew what it was like to be in a position where there was no other options than to ask for help even if I didn't take it. For him to be here now, asking me for help, it spoke of powerful desperation. In it, I could see an opportunity to reconnect. A tragedy broke us apart and a tragedy could bring us back together. If I did this thing--this thing that I didn't want to do--we could be friends again. It was his need that broke me but it was my need that prompted me to say yes.

I took hold of one of Grant's wrists and moved his hand out of the way so we could see each other. “I hear you. If I am going to help, you have to hear me too.”

Grant shook himself free of my grip. “Go ahead.”

“I can take three days off work. They're yours if you listen to me. First we start an hour after sunup and leave an hour before sunset. Second, I don't work during a storm, no matter how many flashlights and ponchos you have.”

“And third?”

“And third, you never ever leave me alone in there.”


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Shadows of Desperation

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