The eyes have it.

So I was driving along today and saw three children walking down the sidewalk. I pictured their lives years down the road. There were two girls and one boy. I picture them remaining friends through sixth grade. That's when one of the girls drives a motorcycle off the cliff. At first the other two comfort each other, but eventually they begin to blame each other and drift apart. They don't speak to each other until their senior year, when they realize that their dead friend would have wanted them to stay friends. So they agree to a suicide pact. But three weeks later, when they make the attempt but fail miserably and accidentally invent a fat free figgy pudding. Or maybe they'll be astronauts.