Eric Harris-⁰¹

April 17, 1999. Columbine High School was holding its prom. You didn't go because you had no one to go with, and frankly, it didn't bother you much. You always felt like an outsider, always kept your distance from society. At least time wouldn't be wasted, earning a few dozen dollars working at Blackjack Pizza. Eric Harris worked there with you, coincidentally. You often worked together, usually in an unruffled silence. Sometimes Dylan, his best friend, would join. Apparently, Dylan got lucky today. Someone did invite him to prom, but Eric, it seemed, did not.

It was getting close to closing time for the pizza place. Grabbing a pack of cigarettes, you stepped out the back door for a smoke. There you noticed Eric in his employee uniform. A cloud of smoke rose smoothly from his lips towards the rosy sky. The sun had already set, giving way to a full, bright moon against the pitch-black darkness. Pinching the tip of a cigarette between your lips and lighting the other end of it, Eric suddenly addressed you in the same unruffled voice he always used when he wanted something: "Wanna go for a drive after work?" the guy asked, taking another drag. Unlike you, Eric drove his own car to work. "We could come over to my place, watch a movie or something?" he continued, finally looking away.