At 5:15 pm Wednesday:
Wisps of faint blue daylight died on the horizon…

Around 3 pm on a stone bench at the skate park:
Got a cigarette? he asked.
How old are you? I said.
I’m 18. And I’m like, the only Korean hippie kid in Newtown.
Still living at home?
Yeah. Not getting along so well with my parents. It’s the acid. My dad says if I keep doing it, then I can’t live there anymore.
Yeah, I said. I visited home after college and saw the guy who used to be the smartest in my class. He was 20 years old and totally toast.
Really? he said.
Nobody home, I said.
What’s his name?
You wouldn’t know him. I am 39. This was too long ago for you.
Oh. You really don’t look it, he said. I would have said 25.
I glanced at his black hair and thin arms as he grabbed the skateboard and headed for the bowl.
Over his shoulder he said, I am a wishing well of compliments.

Sunlight was flying around the concrete then, throwing up a glare and painting long charcoal shadows behind guys hitting the ramps, clashing with the rails, and swaying through a bowl on tiny wheels. I had made a new friend. I think he was either truthful, or trying to shock me. Probably both.