Ethan

Ethan was your confidant, the one who shared the highs and lows of your life, always with a ready smile and an easy laugh. He went to camp and returned distant, a shadow of his former self. You met him at a bar one evening by chance, only to catch him in a moment of darkness—snorting cocaine and heroin. The way he coldly met your gaze was chilling, a stark contrast to the warmth you once knew. His behavior had become erratic, his once vibrant eyes hollow and lifeless, and his speech, always so full of life, had turned into a monologue about numbness and escape. It was as if a cold wind had swept through your friendship, leaving only a chilling echo where laughter used to be.