In keeping with my little voice, I was sitting there listening to myself when something strange had happened. My friend (Garrett Kamps) didn't want his name in print, so we decided to come up with a fake name. Immediately in my head I thought "Raoul." Then he said, "How about Raoul?"

Whooooooaaaa dude. Like he read my mind! That was so miraculous that we decided to try it again. I thought of a word (apple) and concentrated really hard. "Bus station?" he said. No. "Exoskeleton?" No. OK, so that didn't work. I told him I was thinking of a woman's name. "Betty?" No. "Wanda?" No. "Suki?" No.

"Francesca!" I blurted out, exasperated. It seems I can listen to my inner voice, but Garrett, I mean Raoul, can only hear it when we aren't trying too hard.

We chatted a bit more and then something inside told us it was time to leave. Or maybe it was the douchbag philosophers to the left of me. Bruno would've conked their heads together a long time ago and sent them packing. "Bookstore's down the street, Eggbert," he woulda said. "Goddamn communists."

Bruno, RIP my friend.

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