A small card from Scott and Sandi Cupp, longtime buddies from probably World Fantasy Con in New Orleans, 1992. Times past. One reason I can't stop thinking about Pal, aside from still getting cards and greetings from Amazon Prime drivers, is that I have the scars to look at. Some have healed, others peel open because I often carry my mother to the couch.
I miss Pal most because he would be the only one I would talk to during this entire pandemic.