Sam was a fairly normal kid. He went to school, paid attention well enough in class, and maintained a low-A average. Sophomore year had been hard for him, but he'd powered through and was taking large strides towards college. He was loved by his peers and teachers alike, didn't get into fights or create conflict, and he'd made a slightly above-average score on his SAT. His parents considered themselves lucky to have such a mild-tempered, well-mannered son. Sam is dead. On his way home from the homecoming dance, he'd collided head-on with an eighteen-wheeler. It wasn't his fault. The truck driver was driving twenty-five over in the middle of a violent downpour. They both died on impact. Life moved on, and people moved with it. The funeral came and went, along with its tears. People, slowly and surely, forgot about him. It was better for everyone that way. It's a good thing I'm not Sam anymore.
