Fuck

I do this stupid thing sometimes when I’m headed towards Telegraph Avenue, walking towards the scene, and for just a split second I’ll think: “I’ll check in and see what Duncan is up to.” Because for about 30 years I’d come up to Telegraph specifically to hang out with Duncan.

But then I’ll realize: Duncan has been dead for 13 years. So I’ll feel a little stupid.

But to this day I can’t get rid of that feeling. In the back of my mind it’s like there’s something that’s always missing. Duncan used to always be there. But now he’s gone.

You probably have somebody in your life like that, too. It’s like a hole in your life that can’t be filled. Oh well.

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