I this, my friend David is dead.
We met each year for at least 5 years of my traditional summer holiday in America, but by two years, our contacts were sparse. I knew long ago that things were going well, he was not happy with the work and the fact that he earned little. There was also an old story between him and the bottle, but it seemed that he had been released.
David was the chef and was also a good one. His problem was that he could not assert himself. Just did a little 'career management of staff and responsibilities did not succeed and, after a time of disappointing results, was dismissed.
This time it seemed that good. After several years of unskilled and poorly paid, had moved from North Carolina to another state to assume the responsibility of a 'whole accommodation.
It seemed that things had taken a turn in the right direction after years of lean. David was not a motorcycle enthusiast as my circle of friends in Raleigh, but it was certainly been infected with camaraderie and spirit independent of who runs on two wheels. He had bought a Harley 883 and had begun to take the taste out in motion: the noise, vibration and air in the face on those streets endlessly of ' American Heartland.
Then, surprisingly, yet another disappointment. They had left home once again.
I heard on the phone a few weeks ago on the occasion of his birthday. It was no longer him, the voice was off and completely devoid of vitality.
few days ago I received the news. David has done over. He placed all his belongings, he settled all his papers to leave nothing pending, then took his own life.
With him gone a good devil, a meek and quiet spirit. I never fully understood, and now I do not understand his gesture. I just hope he's found what he wanted.
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