jims

there's a huddle of concerned students gathering, as they've just witnessed a body flying through the air and skid to a stop nearly 10 feet away from where the bike it was riding a moment ago has fallen.

"are you okay?"

"god, there's blood!"

"hey, it's going to be okay..."

"maybe we should get him to a hospital. hey, we should get you to a hospital. sew that up."

but he stares down, in disbelief. shock holding his eyes to the large rent in his sleeve, disclosing an even larger one in his arm. "o, my god. o my god. o my god" he whispers.

the crowd sighs with relief. he can speak. "no man, it'll be okay. they'll fix you up at the hospital."

he's confused by this. hospital?? he holds up his sleeve, "how are they going to fix this at the hospital?? it's cashmere!"

"dude. forget your sweater. you're arm's got a hole in it!"

his head whips up, frustration and disdain tightening the lines on his face as he holds up his arm and hisses, "skin grows back. cashmere doesn't!"



this is by far my favorite story about my friend jims, who taught me it was okay to place the important things high up on the list, even if everyone else says you shouldn't.

jims, I miss you.