All of the shit with Avi just made you think of Mitch more. It was almost like the feeling of when he first passed. You saw Mitch. You saw him then and you're seeing him now.
You saw him in almost everything. You saw him in the things he loved and hated, and in things y'all shared. He was in the sharp, pleasant, taste that came toward the front of the mouth and the dryness at the back of the mouth and under the edges of the tongue aftertaste that coffee left in your mouth.
He was in the perfume section of the department store, and at shoe stores, places he could spend hours at.
He was in the untouched vegetables on your children's plates, a trait they inherited from their father. You saw him in the chocolate ice cream that you loved and he despised.
You heard him in music. In piano and in vocals. His booming falsetto voice rang throughout your head anytime you heard a song that he sang, even if he only sang one time, the memory came flooding back. You saw Mitch in a lot of things, but most importantly, you saw him walking down the street.
