Confessions of a Human Nerve Ending

Say his name. Say you've seen him walking down Central, blending in with college kids, men who party early and often and now, look at news stories, social media feeds and his arrest in Roosevelt Park on a Friday afternoon. Say fifteen years ago you and he were regulars in a dive bar on a regular week night and you danced to a band that a lot of people found fun,   just to get away from a lonely life and path that didn't at all look familiar. Say you'd talk on the patios, the bars that hadn't kicked him out and you never knew his name. Say his name. Say you'd see him, run into him at Walgreen's. He'd ask you to buy him beer, hand you cash. He'd lost his license and knew you as a familiar, friendly face. Say you turned away passed off the request, mumbling as you walked by. He seemed a little bit lost, and you felt it just wasn't right, like drinking wasn't also a way that you passed time.. S...