Peace.

It was just like old days, you and me, sitting at the void deck under the block of flats where I live, nursing cigarettes, alcohol and our healing wounds.

It had been years since I last saw you, and when I walked down to find you sitting at the usual spot, I was surprised to find that nothing much had changed physically about you.

We talked about our lives, what had been happening throughout the past years we haven’t seen other, and you had questions of your own to ask about my life. As we talked, I realised that everything seemed like the days before, where the both of us, still young and naive (more often me than you), would talk about our lives, our heartaches, our pains. We would talk about the people we knew, what had become of them, and joked about the times when we were both still in school.

But things have changed. Not between us, not of what we talked about, but how we spoke of them. Our lives revolved around pretty much the same things, the same issues, the same problems. But the things that made us happy have changed. When you spoke, the light that caused your eyes to dance were no longer there. In its place was a shadow, that reflected maturity and a person who has gone through too much. Someone who has had too much on his shoulders, someone who stumbled, and was now getting his life back on track.

And when you spoke to me about that issue, you didn’t judge, and you didn’t reprimand. Instead, you did what I would have expected you to do, except now you did it wearily.

The night was short, and you had to go. While I would have wanted us to chat for longer, it was enough for the day. Enough to put a smile in my heart, enough to give me the peace I craved for so long.

It was great talking to you, old friend.

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1 Comment

  1. poignant.


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