There are a few threads that still connect us. You send photos of our old friend in China. That’s his new girlfriend. That’s the bar he works at. That’s him after a long night of drinking.
There was the concert we went to. Which concert was that? Where we stood close and moved together to the music. How happy it is to stand in a dark theater and move like that.
It’s been eight years. And your brother with two children now. And you with a house in your name. I don’t remember the last time we touched and yet the sound of your voice is still so clear in my mind. I thought I saw you once in a crowd, so sure it was you I began to shout your name.
Benjamin Buckingham received his MFA from the University of Central Florida and has attended the Sewanee Writers’ Conference and the New York State Summer Writers Institute. He lives in Portland, Oregon. This is his first publication.
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