February 10th
When I think about us, I can't help but to think of those people who used to be friends in grade school. They see each other around town or at their kids' sporting events and they have little talks about the weather and the news and their neighbor's obnoxious dog, but that's all it ever is... small talk that equates to nothing more than meaningless babble pooling from their mouths like a sea of gray paint. They never talk about why they stopped being friends after graduation, and they never talk about the times when they couldn't imagine not being friends, and they never even consider exchanging phone numbers. They bid their goodbyes after exhausting all the different ways to arrange the same twenty-six letters into the same words about the same topics, and they think nothing of it as they go.
It's sad... well, for me it is because I just want so badly for one of them to miss the times when they were friends and couldn't imagine not being friends, and, more than anything, I just want one of them to ask for the other's phone number and actually call.
Maybe that's because I suffer from the terminal affliction of having a sentimental heart. And it's the fault of that condition that when I think of us, and when I think of them, I always hope that someday you'll at least want to have one of those little talks with me.
