The conversation was the only thing guiding us. We talked about our past—about highs and lows and old drinking holes and former fashions and friends who came and went so quickly we no longer remembered their names. Don’t get me wrong. Ours was not one of those sad friendships where the only thing that kept it burning was a shared set of dusty memories. It was just that sometimes it felt important to remember the person you used to be and the person you’d once told yourself you’d eventually become.
