I browsed the aisle, looking for familiar faces and names, when he hovered over my shoulder and said, "Find anything interesting?" I don't even remember how I replied. My mind was three years in the past to the last time I stepped foot into a comic book store. And now all of the little things surface. It was a Wednesday because every other Wednesday new comics are printed and you would come up to me with a big smile, "It's Comic Day." Comic Galaxy on Garfield Ave. Make a left. You introduced me to the store clerk who was on a first name basis with you. I was the "ball and chain" and laughed at my title. We don't exist like that anymore. It was a ghost of a memory, visiting me as I picked up different issues. I don't even ask myself what you're up to or anything regarding your present. I keep thinking about the past, of who we were, of what we were, and it blurs into a simple haze where only the answers I like surface. Days like these where I find myself in a situation that we easily could have been in just ignites a bomb of regret in me. And I feel old because you have become the cliched lifetime ago. And I miss that verison of you so much.