Short (?) story featuring someone similar to but is not Niina Koivisto.

The story

SUMMERTIME GHOSTS

Sam Cannondale died at the age of 35.

I simultaneously accepted and refused to believe what I just saw. Reasons for accepting or doubting or denying the death was all over the place.

Sam was a nice bloke. He was decently healthy, had a family, went to his football games. He also wrote songs, one of them unproportionally famous among a certain group, which I am part of. 35 never sounded like an old age, yet it was over the 'too young to die' threshold.

And then I realise that I never knew Sam by the common standards of knowing someone. We never met in person, and we never talked even remotely (* in the telecommunications sense). If his songs were considered something different from the person, I knew his songs better than him.

For a moment - a recurring moment, mind you - I felt that I shouldn't be concerned that much at all. I was not the most concerned about people's deaths person in the world to begin with.

Yet again it was a really, really strange feeling. Somewhere inside me there was the thought that Sam's death was a more purist form of death than some other occurrences of the unfortunate event.