I only knew Tiny from the Internet, so I couldn’t tell for sure if he was really tiny in size, or if his name was one of those ironical-type names. If so, he might have been huge.
Tiny and me were friends in the kind of way you just sling comments back and forth on Facebook and such. Once in a while, we’d say something like, “We should get together for a beer one day,” but it never happened. At least I don’t think it happened.
You see, Tiny disappeared ’round about a year ago. He’d taken a break from the whole online crap for a couple months before, so I wasn’t too worried, until one day when a stranger showed up on his Facebook account. At first they tried to pretend to be Tiny, but I knew. There were little things, like the way words were spelled right that Tiny always spelled wrong. Stuff like that. When I called the character out, they finally said no, they weren’t Tiny and that Tiny had died.
Then three weeks ago, I found the note in my mailbox. It was from Tiny. Said he’d been in town for a month already. It’s a small town; chances are I’ve seen him around and not known it.
Strange thing is, I never told him where I live.
Author’s note: Until October the 31st, I’m going to try to use this space to create possible beginnings for my 2016 NaNoWriMo project. Feedback is welcome.