Thursday, March 10, 2005

My can of worms

Like a loosely-wounded clockwork, he would call in the month of my birthday, sometimes two weeks after the date, sometimes two days.

As always, we'd try to fill up each other on the things that happened in our separate lives since we last talked, all in that single call. He's got a new car, I've got a new boss. He was involved in an accident, I got sick a couple of times since last year. He'll be taking a leave to go to his hometown soon, I'll be going for a holiday in May. I'd always say that I had put on the pounds and he'd always tell of how he failed to gain any.

And as always we'd promise that should one end up long enough in the other's state, we should meet. That we should see how the other has changed.

As always.

But we never do.

Happy birthday to me anyway.

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