The last time I saw Charlie, he was still working in the mines. Everyday, he would wake up at five o'clock in the morning and work until six in the evening. Being a coal-miner was never his intended profession but, his father was a coal-miner and his grandfather before him. Charlie didn't go out much. Ever since high school, he's always been sort of a wallflower. He carried that trait throughout the rest of his life. But, that was Charlie. But, the mines were his home and the coal his mate. Not to mention, the ash beneath his fingernails and the most ghastly cough. . When his shift was up, he would go home, wash the soot off of his hands and face, and watch the day's work flow down the drain.
He always brought the same lunch in the same beat up lunch box; Spam sandwich with relish. I never understood his taste palate.
When I heard that the mining shaft had collapsed, I prayed he wasn't inside. Each day, I watched the news hoping to see his name on the list of survivors. I never heard from Charlie after that day.
I don't think Charlie ever got out of that mine shaft. I tell myself that he's alive and is just too stubborn to come back out. I think about him often. I wish I could see him just once more. He was always such a caring friend. I guess that's why you should never take anyone, or anything, for granted. Sadly, that was the last time I saw Charlie.