A song for Sam
I got me a Cowbird account. It’s a collaborative writing community. In their words, “a witness to life.” In my words, a good excuse to keep writing non-fiction.
My first Cowbird story was written per request of my friend Sam:
“I’m sorry, Sam, but I don’t remember how we met. I was probably drunk or about to be, hopping from flat to flat, bar to bar in a strange country.
“But, it’s okay, Sam. I do remember the moment we became friends and not just people who say hello at Pint Night. Maybe you remember this? We both wanted cookies.”
