It has been fifteen years since John put on a pair of jeans. He got that far and was now standing topless. Staring at the four newly purchased tee shirts, the only ones he now owned. He stood for what seemed to him as days not being able to decide which to wear. But it had only been twenty four hours since he walked outside the prisons gate.

John was only seventeen when he was sent to prison for killing another man . A man that was trying to kill him first. John won that fight. He knew he had to, John was no murderer he hoped to never take a life. But he wasn't going to let someone take his either. Things didn't work out that way though. Johns life was taken too that night. It was taken by a court that didn't see Johns actions as being in self defense, but as murder in the second degree. And now Johns left standing, supposedly set free but incapable of dressing himself or thinking for himself. Alone and feeling so weak, John sheds a tear closing his eyes and grabs a shirt.

 If you were to see John, one nick name comes to mind, Big John. It's what everyone came to call him. He had chiseled good looks, haunting blue eyes, and a build like a brick house. Prison sit ups and push ups combined with the must of fighting. made him a monster of a man. John stayed alive in prison because his hate was bigger than those he had to face. He once told me this, "Fighting a black man was the hardest fight. You can feel their hate. If you didn't hate them more then they hated you, were sure to lose." Most lost he said, punks he called them. White guys in prison embarrassed him. Prison he said will make you a racist. He confided in me many times saying he hated what he had become.

In prison he found his god. He read the stories in the bible and loved to talk with me about them. Me having very contrary ideas and also loving to talk made him very happy. My company hired him and we worked a high rise together for about a year. Every day he would say lets go and have lunch at this little place close to the job. They had couches to sit on and eat and a big screen tv always tuned to the news. "I'll pay" he would say, it meant a lot to him, me being there to talk with him. We became good friends.

John would ask me a lot "we're friends right?" I'd always reply "of course John". "I'm glad" he'd say and smile. I even said to him "dang John, for such a big guy your a tad to insecure, he would laugh and say  "prison life will do that to you". He always took a lot of supplements and vitamins, but I also noticed he was also taking some prescription meds. I asked "What are all those pills for?", he would just reply with "To stay in shape." One week i noticed him not feeling good, I mean in pain not feeling good. "John you need to go to a doctor" I said "all those vitamins mess up your stomach" I added in. That's why I never took them.

Yhen one day, john didn't show up for work. One day became two days. Then those two day became a week. I was worried. I mean he was my best friend at this point. Finally he called me. "Ray..." he said "I don't think I'm going to be able to come back to work." "What?" I asked in confusion. "What's going on bro? This is crazy, you in trouble? You want more money? Because I'll get you a raise man." A long pause even on the phone I could sense him struggling for the words. Like he was struggling to pick a shirt to wear. Just then I heard the tear fall from his eye. "I have aids" he said. "I didn't want to tell you. I thought you would think bad of me. I was afraid you would treat me differently and not want to work with me or be my friend." my voice cracking now, I'm crying to. "John..John,,John..." I said. "Listen close to me because I never meant something more. You will always and forever be my friend. You got that?" I told him. "Ray I'm glad we met and I'm sorry." I stopped him there, I said this to him "John tomorrows lunch, I'm buying." If any one says you cant hear a smile, they just never heard a real one. R.I.P. Big J D My best friend ever.