for a little over a year, our best friend, the alchoholic fighter pilot, lived next door. we would go over to his door for a cigarette break, and he to ours. he would invite one of us over for dinner, if he knew the other one wasn't there to keep us company.
he would fall into large pits of what am i doing with my life? crises about the things his family would tell him to do (get married, buy a house, have kids).
he would show up drunk on our doorstep and start carrying on in our front room, knocking the legos off their posts, rattleling the windowpanes.
and now, after two months of not paying his rent, he is gone. and now. more than i have wanted to in weeks, need to talk to him, want to talk to him, and he left ten minutes ago.
who knows, you may yet run into him again, it's a strange, small world, and odder things have certainly happened.