“It was. You were my best friend, Cyril. I thought we were going to be friends for life. I looked up to you so much.” “That’s not true,” I said, surprised by his words. “It was me who looked up to you. You were everything I wanted to be.” “So were you,” he said. “You were kind and thoughtful and decent. You were my friend. At least that’s what I thought. I didn’t hang out with you for fourteen years because I wanted someone following me around like a puppy. It was because I liked being around you.”
