Looking at some illustration of children and the starry skies reminded me of kc. I'll have to call her. And then I thought of Jeff, and looked up his obit. I wanted to post on it but it felt contrived, it felt manipulative, it felt attention-seeking, it felt intrusive--like it would make his family wary...These cannot be likely outcomes, I know it's my inner critic torturing me. The truth, Jeff, is that you were bossy. Not mean, not manipulative. Just bossy. I thought maybe you would be my significant other. Your book collection was as broad and random as my own. You were a child, crazy with the desire for knowledge. Myself, also. We'd have been two kids forever learning. We'd get together for romance, but we'd sllep in separate rooms. We'd go to musicals and plays and try every cuisine available. The truth, Jeff, is that no one else felt like my exact equal. I know we'd have gone on different literary tangents, maybe only meeting at some scifi fantasy. Or hanging out with Neil Gaiman. I guess I also just don't actually think you left us when you died. It's not denial. I just know your soul is in more spaces now. Wisps in random sections of night sky. So I am not sad.