He walks through my mind softly, as though not to wake me up. I wonder if he remembers me at all when I don't remind him of my presence. I wonder if he's found the forgotten strands of hair that I had placed between the pages of his books. Perhaps he just brushes them aside irritably like so many flies. Or maybe he brushes them aside and feels nothing. I wonder if he sees people with cigarettes pressed into their lips and thinks of me, or does he just pass by? Can he look at his shirt without seeing me in it? Does he feel an absence, or is it only a comfortable nothingness?