My Old Friend.
It had been with him for as long as he could remember. There. Near. Close by. But never intruding. Just there. With him but not actually with him. It moved with him, yes, that was undeniable, but there was a separation. A divide that always held. Without that grace, he knew he would have gone mad by now.
There was nothing that discerned him as bad. He was as normal and as neurotic as…