Four trash barrels marked the corners, found posts had been implanted, a blue plastic tarp overall. Beneath, a box, with votive candles inside and pasted to it's side a picture of the young man, enlarged on a copying machine. There was a masking tape to the macadam message, "R.I.P., L. . . . ., AKA Big Fun." two poster card good bye signs, several crosses, a flag, seventeen bouquets of flowers, and twenty three votive light candles.
.... and a steady stream of mourners.
I questioned a sad young man in a red shirt, that had come on a bicycle.
"My cousin, on Saturday night."
"There was alcohol."
"He fell from his car and cracked his head."
I left him in his grief, and went on about my way.
Life is always too short. It is also fragile and can end in an instant.