I imagine you at Grady's Bar. Sitting in the back. The room is smokey, and you're delicately sipping a rum and coke. Grandpa is with you, and Elvis Presley is playing on the jukebox. You're happy, and your world is centered right where it should be. You feel no pain. No sorrow for the loved ones you've left behind. Just you, the music, your bar, and Grandpa.
I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye to you.
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