It was 6am when I stood in my black Chinese pajamas, waiting for him as the lazy rising sun caressed the window sill like a finger gently touching a piano as it walked by. I didn’t know it would be the last time. Maybe it’s better this way; otherwise we wouldn’t have been so cheerful, so full of hope. So many details escape my mind now, I resort to joining many different moments into one huge memory.
How did we end up meeting? It was a sunny afternoon, and we said hello as if we had known each other for a long time. But why? How did it all begin? I can see myself writing and looking at his picture, thinking I might never see him personally, but I cannot trace an origin to this friendship. It doesn’t matter. Whatever led us to this was a miracle, and I’m thankful for all the time we were able to share together. I miss him, yet I know we’ll meet again,… and then we will drink lots of juice, have a movie marathon, walk nonstop, imitate foreign accents and laugh about pretty much everything.
Farewell, my dear; be ready for our next rendezvous! Meanwhile, I’ll drink some Inca Kola in your honor (can you believe it? I still haven’t drunk the last one you brought me!).