There's a poster up on the wall with my picture on it. The picture is grainy and in black and white, and it's not a terribly good likeness. In the picture I'm surrounded by my old friends. I wonder where they are now. Better off than I am, most likely. Except maybe Jerry. If he's not in jail yet, he's probably living from drug deal to drug deal. But I digress. The poster in question was the symbol of the peak of my life. The first gig. The first and last gig. We got up there, none of us having a clue what we were doing, and we had a blast. The crowd loved us. Everything should have gone well. But after that night, something changed. We changed. We grated on each other, each of us certain that we were right and the others were just being stupid. We were half right. Our stupidity cost us dearly. I don't mean about the band. That was fun, but it wasn't earth-shattering. When we parted ways, we left our friendships lying in the dust behind us. Now, if they ended up anything like me, there's noone left. Only a fragment of a memory captured in a poster on the wall.