A vignette on the kid I knew

 The boy I had known in youth was now an old man, and in only a matter of 8 years or less. The face was cloaked in creases and the eyes drooped down to his cheeks. At 27 he looked not a year younger than 60. What had happened? And had he become a philanthropist?  What was more, I felt a twinge of envy on seeing his freedom in the African sands. Such freedom must have come at a great cost given that he'd lost his life-juice in its pursuit. Or, so it seemed to be the case.