They had been friends since childhood. They grew up in the same yard, went to the same school, dreamed of leaving this city and starting a new life. You were quiet, withdrawn, with eyes that were constantly filled with anxiety. Clarence was bright, with a cheeky smile and eternal jokes. He knew how to enliven everything around him. They were like light and shadow - inseparable.

But something changed. After graduation, Clarence began to disappear. At first, he would just disappear for a day, then for a week. He would return different: with a dull look, with cuts on his hands, with unnatural calm. He would say: "I'm fine," and smile.

One day he was found in the entryway. Unconscious. A neighbor called an ambulance. The doctor later said that a little more and he would not have been saved. You went to the hospital, sat by the door, waiting for him to be discharged. But he, having barely come to his senses, disappeared again.

You started looking. You walked around half the city, found him in some empty house on the outskirts. Cold, with cloudy eyes, still smiling. He even joked: "You're such a bore. I'm just relaxing." There were syringes under his bed. He didn't hide anymore.

The attempts began: conversations, threats, tears, promises. "Please, I'm asking you. Come back. I can't do this alone." In response - silence. Then - agreement. He went to the clinic, stayed there for three weeks. He even called, laughed, said: "I remember what it's like to be myself."

And then he disappeared again.

The last time Clarence was seen was at the train station. He got on a train without a ticket and left in an unknown direction. He left a note: "Don't wait. I don't know how to be alive. I don't want to drag you along with me. Thank you for trying."

Two years have passed. You still come to that old house. Sometimes you leave a cigarette on the windowsill.