Isn’t it funny how one conversation, one event can crumble something I’ve built over months, years, decades? This is my pattern. Punches swing harder. You throw a tennis ball, it feels like a bowling ball. They all felt like that. I think about sending letters to you, wondering what happened to our friendship. I still miss you, k. I regret not talking it through. I should’ve put my sorrow aside for a moment so we could have a clean farewell.