I saw someone on the street today who looked like Marcus, just for a second and then gone. It's always gone. That's all it is these days, fragments, like looking at a broken mirror and thinking that if you just held the pieces right, you could see a whole face again. But you can't. It's just shards. And sometimes those shards cut you, you know? Like the guitar strings. I keep staring at that open case. It’s like a dare. A dare to feel SOMETHING besides this.