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Preserved in youth.

This story does not reflect that of media bias or racial discrimination, but rang home when I came across it.

In 2008, a young couple fell from the roof of my apartment building early in the morning. I woke up one Saturday morning to see my backyard swarmed with police and feds, and to my horror, saw the body. The man was wearing a white t-shirt splattered with blood from the impact of his fall.

To my knowledge, the case was never resolved–the couple was apparently drunk from a night out, and it was unclear why they were on the roof because they did not live in the building. But it was one of those memories you don’t ever forget. For years after their death, friends and family of the deceased would come visit the spot where they fell in our backyard. I would keep vigil by the window some nights, watching people howl with grief and feel it resonate under the empty sky. It wasn’t the first time I heard of such an unusual death in my neck of the woods. It wouldn’t be the last. But it was a terrible, unreasonable way to die.

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