During the urban unrest that followed the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis in police custody in May, I told a friend from high school that I disapproved of the riots. “So do I,” he said. “But just so you know, if this had been happening when we were in high school, we’d be out there breaking things, too.”
He reminded me of a story from when we were teenagers. It’s 2007. “Where’s Seth?” I ask, looking through the fridge for another Keystone Light.
“He’s sleeping in his room. He has work tomorrow,” my friend Josh replies.
Seth is our friend. He works at a grocery store. He’s been staying with us for the last few days because his dad and stepmom kicked him out.
“How can we mess with him?” I ask, sipping my beer.
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