Today’s eight are from a story I posted from about a month ago, about two people who were best friends growing up but drifted away after graduation: she went to law school and he went into the army. Now a decade later they’re both back in their hometown, trying to figure out where – and if – they fit in each other’s separate lives.
Abby hasn’t seen Eli in years; they’ve just bumped into each other at the grocery store, several days before Eli’s wedding.
He’d gained weight since I’d seen him at the hospital, in decent enough shape still, but in five years he’d have the potbelly rampant with so many of the guys in town, and his face was harder, more lined since high school, which I guess was to be expected after what he’d gone through. I tried not to stare at the stump where his left hand should’ve been, but unable to look him in the eyes, I just looked down at the box in my hand instead.
I sensed him tensing, and the glance I darted at him showed the smile was gone from his face. Just like that, I’d become like everyone else in the town; he’d gone from my best friend to poor Eli.
Stretching up to give him a hug, I said, “Congrats on getting married.”
“Yeah, well.” He pulled me tighter than I’d expected. “I’m not married yet.”
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