some days, when i am on grounds, walking somewhere, or coming out of a building, sometimes, i'll catch sight of a small, bearded figure walking along with some books under his arm and i would think, is that charles vandersee? it's not that i don't remember, but in places where you are accustomed to seeing them, the habit stays with you of thinking you see them. and it's not that you didn't remember, and it's not even that some of these strangers looked that much like him, but the shock still comes, in that moment when your expectancy turns into sudden hurt, because the realisation is not "oh, it's not him" but "it'll never be him again"