“That Bojan is a nice young man. But something’s not quite right with him. Everyone says so,” the waiter said and picked up Bojan’s empty glass.

I followed Bojan with my eyes as he walked away from us into the park and towards the waterfall. From the cafe I could see his tall head and shoulders leaning against the fence by the gazebo. He stood there for a while and stared at the water gushing down. After his endless burst of energy at the table, his silhouette from afar seemed ominously quiet and subdued. As my dad and I walked home from the cafe, I could not shake off a certain misgiving. I still worried about Bojan.

I left Jajce a few days later to start graduate school in America. My father stayed behind to finish some repairs on our house. I was so busy with the trip, unpacking and the thrill of a new school that I forgot all about Bojan yet again. A call from my father changed that. Three days after we’d spoken to him, my father said, Bojan had jumped off the waterfall. Just as he’d once threatened he would.

I skipped classes that morning. What was the source of Bojan’s immense sadness, and why couldn’t he shake it off? Did seeing me play a role in his final act? I wondered if anyone could have stopped him, or if it was inevitable that Bojan’s life would end this way. I wondered what it was about the waterfall that captivated him so, that compelled him to plunge in. I don’t know any of the answers. It’s too late to change anything anyway. I just know I never want to see that waterfall again.