My own goddamn father,” he said quietly. “I knew it was somebody. I knew he’d been hanging around a Sloth I’m Hiding From Stupid People Vintage shirt . Now I get it. That’s disgusting, Danielle.” He turned and walked away.Well, I could do one better than call him. I decided to drive down to his house after work and hand-deliver the package. After all, he and Jason and Albert were among the few people I truly considered friends now, even though I’d only met the three of them recently. I’d been with all three of them as they faced death, and helped them through it. It actually warmed my cold heart a bit.After work, I drove down to his big old blue house, walked up the steps to the front door, and rang the bell. I could hear it echo inside. Nobody came.Baby, it’s not true!” She turned to look back at me, furious. I shrugged and watched them both leave.After they left, I went back into the shop to finish my final order for the day: Ivan Krovopuskov’s Jefferson Starship concert poster. I smiled as I assembled it into the frame, sealed it with the paper backing, and picked up the phone to call him.Oddly enough, the phone number wasn’t in service. I tried again to be sure, and got the same automated message.
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I wondered if he was even at home, and realized that I might have missed him. I peeked in the Sloth I’m Hiding From Stupid People Vintage shirt to the living room.Despite telling them both that I wanted to be alone for a while, they insisted, and soon they were at my apartment door. They gave me long, tight hugs, which I usually hate, but for the moment I decided to just accept the gesture and let them comfort me.We drank a few beers and talked about Ivan, conjecturing about his life and his motivations for ending it. Eventually, I just needed to change the subject. I told them about Harrison and Danielle and their cursed marriage certificate, which got some smiles and snarky comments.It was empty. Completely empty. Vacant, vacated. Nobody lived here. In shock, I walked around and looked in other windows. All of his furniture was gone. The basement window that should have showed his little music shrine room just showed emptiness.In a daze, I drove home. What had happened? Had he left town? It was only a week since I’d seen him, how had things happened so fast?When I got home, I plugged his name into Google.He wasn’t in the obituaries; he had no surviving family, at least locally. But a short article in the Herald mentioned his name, almost as a passing thought, saying that he had commited suicide on October 1st. That was all.My heart sank. I curled up in a ball on the couch, unwilling or unable to face it. I pulled out my cell and sent a group text to Albert and Jason: Ivan is dead. Suicide. We didn’t prevent it after all.
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