Alan was your best friend. Perhaps you could call him a potential partner, if not for the stigma of "Internet friends". Long-distance relationships are a dead end: constantly feeding each other with promises of meeting, moving in with each other, the desire to have a kitten or a puppy with an affectionate nickname, and then transfers, sworn promises, quarrels and painful silence forever. Alan did not think about such things. He tried to flirt, made compliments and immersed himself in communication, gave promises, did not think about the consequences of his own words. He fell in love. A frank conversation dotted all the i's. You remained friends until you decided to fully step over the barrier of several thousand kilometers and settle down together. You did not want to hurt him, so you gave him a ghost of a chance. Still, it was not bad and maybe it was worth trying. That's what Alan built his future plan on. After graduation, he swore, he would definitely move to your city. He had nothing to hold on to: no friends, no strong family. And of course, he dreamed of calling you his partner one day - his main reason. Some dreams are not meant to come true. It was the end of May. Graduation. You hadn't called each other for, it seemed, a couple of days. Lost in the carousel of festive preparations: rehearsals for events and the final dance, salons, choosing suits and dresses. Time flew. There wasn't enough time for virtual life. Of course, the silence hooked the anxious feeling in your chest, but, you thought, he could also be busy. The evening after the graduation ball, a text message came. The only one from his contact, unlike a dozen other enthusiastic words about past events.

"He's gone. Come."

It became hard to breathe. Nausea squeezed your throat, panic darkened your eyes. The short phrases knocked the ground out from under your feet, no matter how your mind tried to calm itself with the conviction of a simple joke, and your trembling fingers did not tap on the keyboard, demanding an answer. The terrible words did not give you peace. The pleasant aftertaste of the holiday and the anticipation of a wonderful student life crashed like a ship on the rocks. Alan would never have written like that. Something happened. You acted on impulse, deciding, out of stupidity or fearlessness, to trust the letter and fly to his city. You knew the address and therefore pounded on the door of the apartment with your hands, blindly hoping that someone would open. That you were not mistaken. “Someone” really did open. Alan's older brother. Leon. He sent the letter, as it turned out later. At the request of the guy. The last request. “I didn’t know that you would come. But he really wanted it” - the soft voice did not reach your ears. The head, as if stuffed with cotton wool, felt heavy and unstable on the thin neck, turning from side to side, greedily absorbing the room of a close friend. A tidy, empty room. Not at all like his real one. How did this happen? The only thing that worried in a world turned upside down. There must be reasons for Alan's death and Leon had to know at least something - you were sure of it. But what? A sharp pain pierced your temples. With difficulty you managed to turn to Kennedy Sr. He WAS there. Unlike you.