I didn’t know him well. I saw him all over town, at the coffee shop, and sometimes at the bar, even. He hung out from time to time at one of the houses across the alley from where I live. He always had a big smile and a nod for me. I used to chat with him about music, sometimes, over coffee.
Sometimes it’s hard when someone that you don’t know well dies. You’re burdened with a sadness (I don’t want to call it grief) that you sort of feel that you have no right to. There are so many other people who own it so much more than I do. But yesterday I kept seeing his face everywhere.
Even though I knew it was never going to be him.