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In the eighth grade at highschool we we placed into contacts according to our surnames. Your school might’ve called them houses, or fraternities, I don’t know. Being a Clark, I was thrown in with the B’s and C’s, in a contact called 8B. Scott Chan was one of the first friends I made in highschool. A really friendly guy; fun to hang with, bursting with charisma and smarts. He went on to become head boy of our school in the twelfth grade, and now at UWA he’s president of the Ecoms Committee. He’s still one of my best friends, and you might remember that we celebrated his birthday just a few days ago.

Last night, driving through his own neighborhood with his girlfriend Rose, Scotty’s car was hit by another. Some guy ran a red light. Now Rose is dead. She was one of the most beautiful, friendly, talented, amazing women I’ve ever met; and I know that Scotty loved her more than life itself; but now she’s gone. She had to die because some moron wanted to get home quickly .

And all I can do is sit here and cry my goddamned eyes out.