Every few months you’ll be somewhere you tend to be and bump into The Approximate Friend. It’s statistics. Simple math.
A flash of recognition followed by Hello, how are you? What’s been happening? Vague updates while scrolling on the phone. All the reference points are getting more out of date with each meeting. The string unwinding. One end of a fraying rope in each of our hands, embarrassed.
Remember so and so? Yes, I keep him frozen in time to thaw for this kind of situation. My file on him ended some years ago now. But, he is my lifeline to you. To this. I fondly remember what the three of us did then. And I know I spend time on your mind’s ice, waiting to be pulled when you need me. It’s disgusting isn’t it? Getting reduced to this. Maybe the computers should kill us all.
I’d like to assure you, though, that when the day comes I see a picture of you with a caption noting the dates of your birth and death, I will mourn you with a momentary stinging in my eyes and a catch in my throat.
We weren’t very close, but we were friends.