“Don’t smile like that; it’s cliché,” Her cruel smile crept across the table, leaving him with a feeling of abandonment.
“Maybe you shouldn’t act like you’re the center of the universe.”
“Also cliché,” she pointed out with a wave of her clumsy hand. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like I’m serious. We both know that I think you’re brilliant.”
“Shut up. You’re just trying to flatter me.” They exchanged bitter looks, and it was all pretend. This was a part of the practice.
“Anyway, how was your morning? You seem tired,” she broke character and fell into the routine they had long ago established. To an outsider, their friendship was filled with under handed jabs and uncalled for insults, but it was how they loved. They inhaled in unison and laughed in unison. If we could look back into their years of strict friendship, we would see that while she built heroes out of the plain boys in the neighborhood, he grew up. He was a constant for her, but that was it.
“I’m just getting old and tired. That’s all.” He left it at that, leaving the morning undisclosed. He had something important to tell her, but it could wait.
“You’re twenty-two and so very dramatic.” While thinking I’m tired too, she rebuffed his complaint. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, tilting one shoulder in her direction. When she was with him, she felt old. She felt like they had been through wars, droughts, and floods together. When he settled into the chair next to her, but not close to her, she felt at ease.
