We had a tradition, him and I.
We would share a morning meal, in the same place, on the same day,
And that's just how it was.
I don't know exactly when this tradition came to be,
But I know without a doubt, when it ceased to exist.
The pillars of our tradition started to crumble,
When he began smiling and speaking to me less and less.
The smile became forced and soon forgotten,
And his words were simply no more.
Our once stronger than life friendship,
Was hanging on by its final threads.
Until one week, he never showed.
At the time, I thought it was out of anger.
But I saw him again, a few days later.
For you see, his obituary was in the morning paper.