Kin

I look one more time at the faded Polaroid. Me, Grant, Big Yin, Franko - and, of course, Budgie; all the old crew. The familiar, bittersweet memories gnaw at me as I think of past times.

Good times.

Blood brothers, raising hell. Girls, drugs, brawls, and the occasional cell - we shared them all. High on recklessness and life’s promise. Invincible. Admired by all the wrong people.

But they’re gone now, except Grant. That’s still hard to believe, some days.

I put the treasured photo back down and pick up the gun. Remembering.

There’s a good reason I’ve left Grant until last.