While down at the beach I got the chance to meet a family.
It was a group of my brother's coworkers who share a common bond through the rigors of restaurant-variety labor. A work family and a bar family.
All nice people. All unique in their own ways.
In this family there was a couple who had been dating for quite some time. They were great.
The girl, beautiful, kind, caring, and an all-round sweetheart.
The guy, calm, cool, and easy to talk to.It was a real pleasure to get to know the two of them. Not to mention, they could party their faces off.
Good people who seemed to enjoy equally good company.
This morning my brother called me. Hazy from a little party last night in which I ended up doing the Electric Slide next to Congresswoman Bordallo, I answered.
He went on with the usual until he switched beats when I asked him what he was doing.
He told me he was heading back from a funeral. He goes on...
It was the funeral of the male-half of that nice couple I had met. He was stabbed to death...by his sweetheart girlfriend. In self-defense of course.
It's funny, he didn't strike me as an abuser. Then again, she didn't strike me as a stabber.
I guess shit always happens. RIP
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