Friends lie below. Damn. Now some really lie below. A few have died. He missed the moment of their passing and only heard rumors after the fact. They didn’t miss him. Why should he miss them? Those friends were just there and then gone. He can’t even remember the clothes they were wearing or the smiles on their faces. Those faces frozen under the ice of stretched time and shadowy like the swirl of cloudy light under pond ice on a cold February day. His memory is more murky each day as his mind numbs.