Local Voyeur

          Noah Stevenson, 27, of Marietta GA passed away on September 4th. Noah was an administrative professional at a medical college in Atlanta. He was also a coach for the Falcons Pop Warner football team (which he loved). In his spare time, Noah would write, draw, sing or play his guitar.

I began talking to Noah in the beginning of summer and quickly realized what an great man he was. Not only was he a great talent, he also cared about his friends as if they were his family. Noah had a way of making you laugh uncontrollably and feeling like you were the most important person in the world. I believe we lost not only a great writer (and artist) but an amazing person that day. He will be greatly missed by those who knew him.

The following short essay is one of the last pieces of writing Noah produced.

-Nicole Sebula

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It's late April and the Georgia rains are pouring down, scouring the

world of all it's unpleasantness. I'm standing on my rooftop alone,

having smoked my last cigarette, I resigned myself to watch the people

of my small town scurry to and fro like so many lab mice. 

A couple catches my eye. A man and a woman, holding hands and strolling

down the street as if it weren't raining at all. I am completely lost

watching these two, so obvious in love even from five stories up, their

smiles lighting up the overcast afternoon. He looks to be about a full

foot taller than she, his hair is dark and wild from the rain. Her hair

is golden blonde and pulled into pigtails. Even though the cleansing

rain pelts her face, she still looks up at him with a smile more radiant

than the sun. 

 The street is deserted now except for the three of us. I feel like I am

intruding, but I can't seem to tear myself away from the two of them

laughing and splashing about; while I stand alone up here on my perch.

He bows to her, takes her hand and they dance in the rain on the

deserted street with nothing but the symphony of the driving rain as

their music. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. 

 The door to the roof access opens and suddenly she is behind me, her

warm body pressed against mine.

 "You'll catch your death of cold."

 I can hear the smile in her voice, "May I have this dance?"