For Frances, Who Died Too Young

by solaris2001

The last time he saw her alive, she was stumbling away from him in a drugged stupor across a dark parking lot. He turned away sadly and remembered the bright-eyed, beautiful, round-faced girl whose thick auburn locks tickled and caressed his face when they hugged tightly with the warmth and affection of two children that could accept each other for who they truly were. That last night, she’d huddled close to him with a chill, a careless ember from her cigarette burning a small hole into his jacket, now the only memento he had of their lost but cherished friendship.