One Hundred Saints

He was from the wrong side of the bayou. A place where voodoo was revered and fallen angels whispered. I didn't care. I loved him from the first time we played together, and I love him still. I haven't seen him in so long. I went back to New Orleans when I could. I never stopped thinking about him. My bayou boy with the heavy Cajun accent. I just didn't know that the happy little boy had turned into such a different man. I didn't know that he had been looking for me too. I didn't know a lot of things. But finding out was much worse than staying in the dark.