Tragedy at Rainbow River

The dark purple bags beneath Elliott's eyes betrayed his present alertness. Never before had he been so awake and aware of the world around him, even after having last opened his eyes 23 hours ago. The entirety of the Victorian's residents stood around in their grimy lobby sharing rumors and speculating as to what had happened to Rory Langley, a longtime resident.
Elliott had said hi to Rory before. They crossed paths every month or so in the aging corridors of the Victorian, but never had they spoken more than a few words to each other. Yet he felt surprisingly devastated after such an seemingly insignificant character had left his life. Every time he passed Rory, she seemed motivated. She was happy. She spent her times with friends and family. Rory had never lived in the nicest apartment, she obviously didn't make the most money, and she worked long hours at a Vietnamese restaurant. For what reason was her short time on this earth infinitely preferable to Elliott than what he himself had lived? She had friends. She had people that she cared about, and people that cared about her.
Elliott needed to change this. He had long gone through life alone, only with himself to rely on, to provide comfort in trying times, and to celebrate with.
Several days later, Elliott got a phone call from a childhood friend of his. He said that another long-lost friend of his, Munny Pang, had gotten into a bad accident and was now at the hospital on the outskirts of the city. Elliott hung up and sprang into action. He went to the florist and bought a huge bouquet of flowers, put together an assortment of chocolates and truffles, and baked the best garlic breadsticks he had ever made. Arms bursting with gifts, he trundled down the steps towards his car with an anxious smile of reigniting an old friendship.