(For Brian)

After you died your head separated itself from your body. It hovered an inch above your shoulders, rotating slowly in an anti-clockwise direction.

I would still see you sometimes, in the library or at the bus-stop. Once, I saw you in the queue in Tescos, wearing a Joe Satriani t-shirt. I said hello, but you ignored me, your eyes dull and milky, lifeless like ancient opals.

I often wonder what I said or did to upset you.