A Picture Is Worth 1,000 Souls It was Sunday when my friends called me up. Perfect weather, perfect day. Didn't matter to me, depression has no preference in climate. It sounded like they had already been drinking. Almost noon, good start. They've been trying to get me out of the house for months now, and today seemed like the day to battle my demons. Golf they said, how predictable. Not much of a sports guy, or a people person, but whatever let's golf. They pull up in Roger's '99 Porsche Carrera. I thought he had sold that piece of junk. George gets out of the passenger seat and folds it down for me to get in. "How's it going, cocksucker?", he says, douchey as usual. I don't respond. I get in to find Roger's girl in the backseat, Rachel Feinstein. My heart starts pounding as I slide in next to her. My knee touches hers and I quickly jerk it away. She simply cracks a smile and says, "Hi". I die. I simply can&
Very cool. Thanks for sharing this!
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