My best friend’s last entry is a single line Bronte quote on friendship. The irony of it is, it’s exactly that attitude towards our particular friendship that made me remain his all those years. And even now, actually.

He hasn’t counted me as one of his for several years now. A bad falling out, both of us at fault. I like to think that if we run into each other at some bar in Malate we’d give each other the most casual of acknowledgments, order a carafe of white, and continue some long lost conversation from a decade ago without skipping a beat.

The last message I got from him through a common friend makes this somewhat unlikely though (I believe it was something to the effect of, “up yours”).

Meh. Maybe one day he’ll get over it. The carafe will be on me.