Outcast

When I first heard, I completely doubted. Then I heard from someone else about what he’d done. I called him. He didn’t say “Hello” … only “Can we talk?” At a coffee shop, in a booth, I listened. He told me the story. Yes. He did it. He betrayed a trust … took what was not his to take. He was an outcast, a broken man. In the year that followed we spent time together, often drinking coffee in silence. All those friends that gave him the cold shoulder? They’re not talking to me, either. I reckon that’s the price we pay.