Old Mates

I go out to check the mail. I'm between meetings. Deadlines. I'm waiting on an Ike & Tina Turner CD being delivered. It's not there. 

As I am walking in, a car backs back to my front gate. I hear a voice say, “Is that Christian Fletcher?” I turn to see the business decal on the side of the Tarago. 

Oh, I’m not thinking catching up with old friends, I’m thinking quiet week. All that endless chat, oh, er... I am terrible, I know.

My old mate Kim was in the area, apparently, reliving the time he was chased home by a car load of lads in a road rage incident when we lived together, with one of his work colleagues.

Kim says he often thinks of me with nice thoughts. He says he wants to catch up. We haven’t seen each other for quite some time.

He got me to call him, so he could make a time to catch up. He suggests he has stories to tell me, I assume, he couldn’t tell with his work colleague in the car. Oh, that’s probably not true, Perry and Kim traditionally don’t have a filter when it comes to their work crew, it was probably due more to time constraints.

I head inside. Kim, hey, I think? You know, like you do when you see someone for the first time in ages, when your past comes stumbling into your present, where most likely everything has changed and not much has changed at all. And some memories flash through your mind, as you get back to your present day.