I'm helping one of the instructors from the writer's workshop I'm attending get to the place he's staying this weekend after our meet-and-greet at the bar. "Has anybody said your eyes look a little like David Bowie's?" he says, while we stand on the subway platform, waiting for a train.
"No, I don't believe they have," I say.
"We miss him, don't we?" he replies, mournfully.
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