I Thought You Two Were Friends

Brodie was killed some years ago when he drove through a stop sign right into another car somewhere in maine. My first thought was to be struck with remorse for the mean things i'd said in our fights. And my next thought was to want back wha he'd stolen, my hat that i liked and a favourite scarf that had been in the back pack. How could it be that even if i'd never planned to see him again, our story was a different story? Now he'd been dead for years without my even knowing, which made me feel ignorant and shallow. I hoped he'd thought of me often and well in whatever time he'd had. Was i allowed to hope