Did my friend Alex ever get drunk? I can’t help but wonder, as I sit outside the dome on this bright spring day. Of course, he had a level of cp that meant he needed help to drink: did he ever have the opportunity to sit outside on such a day and sip a beer? Did he ever wake up on a pebble beach? Did he ever feel guilty about what he did the night before? Did he ever roll over in bed to cuddle up to the person he loved? He deserved to do all these things, and more. Yet he probably didn’t, and, I know now, will never. That seems, as I sit here, utterly unfair.