Shawn stared blankly at the paper in front of him.
The pen held strong underneath his death grip.
He usually never had any problem looking for words to express himself.
But this time was different.
This time he was at a loss.
How is one even expected to write a eulogy for their best friend?
There was so much he could say.
But none of it was good enough.
It never could be.
He wasn't good with death.
Gus had known this.
And yet he left him having to write this first.
What could he even say?
Words weren't sufficient.