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📓 Tuesday, October 7, 2025 — 10:27 a.m.
I recently bought the Nightmare on Elm Street 4K steelbook box set, so I’m watching it now while waiting for the carne asada my dad’s grilling out front.
This past weekend left me uneasy.
Our neighbor lost his son a year ago this October—it was the first anniversary of his death.
He was only twenty-five.
The cause is still unclear.
He went to work and was later found in his car, dead from a gunshot wound.
His father never spoke about the details.
To honor him, he set up a massive screen in his front yard and invited friends and neighbors to gather.
His son loved movies—Rush Hour was one of his favorites.
That evening, as we drove back from Winchell’s Donuts, we passed the gathering.
I didn’t join.
His death was unexpected, abrupt, and unnecessary.
And maybe that’s why I stayed inside.
Because part of me wanted to erase it—or at least let time blur the edges.
He reminded me of my cousin, who was assassinated in 2012 when he was just twenty, about to turn twenty-three.
I think life is short.
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