Simon

In walks a beard in old, tattered clothes babbling about basketball and asking for the pipe: "Ya mind?" he says and picks up a lighter from the table, draws in a huge breath and, while exhaling, remarks: "The world is yours, man. You just have to believe in yourself." Minutes tick by as he tells detail after inane detail about stories that are too specific for anyone to relate to and all revolve around some vague, overarching theme to which he's alluded. Wanton in both focus and reaction, he hasn't finished talking when my roommate asks him to pass the piece. Slowly turning the knob and resistant to simple good-byes he steps out leaving us all wishing he'd stayed only a little longer.