This doesn't mean that Mr. Ponce was in any way a femme. He was actually quite masculine. Maybe it was that his living room was painted turquoise. Or,...maybe it was the way he slowly walked me to my car after every piano lesson. I couldn't be sure. But, I had known that Mr. Ponce was gay for years even though it was something neither of us had ever discussed.He knew all about my... adventures with other men, and I regularly asked him advice on how to turn someone down or how to show someone that. .. that... he."I couldn't even end my sentence, my mother had to the ingrate job for me: "Dylan is dead. Honey... I'm so sorry..."Maybe I'd sound like such a hypocrite, but the pain was real.And it was destroying me, from the inside: a dark shadow, swallowing my soul, my inner light."Please, just tell me the day of the funeral, I'll be at home." The fact, honey... The fact is, his parents have informed the town only after the funeral. We didn't have the chance to say him goodbye for the last. More

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