It's funny the things we remember. I don't remember the decor in your kitchen, the type of chairs at your table, the tiles on your floor, or even most of what you said, but I remember a box of screws that you opened and looked at whilst talking, a drill that you asked your wife if it was overpriced and a bag of bananas.

But mostly I remember the screws. There were photos on the side of the box that after about an hour I figured were showing how they would not cause the wood to split, and the box was blue.

I'm worried I will never see you again, not just for lack of a hilarious fat man in my life, but because for someone who was so influential on my life, I don't want to have spent my last memory of you sat at your kitchen table, half alive and half dead, staring at a box of screws.

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