“The sun was high in the sky but it was coming down, it had to. There was a mix of clouds hovering over above the heads of the five young people as they headed north at a steady rate. A grey gravel path, strewn with half bricks that had been buried until only a small portion of the body was visible helped pockmark the way ahead. The air was fresh, the evening slowly coming to an end. Grass and the occasional bulrush hemmed the gravel, whilst the trees were placed along intervals a slight distance away from the free growing vegetation. The sound of the voices did not carry as far as he had hoped. As he pushed on he could hear the wind rustling the leaves that dangled and grew so freely amongst this sculpted park.
Pushing up the embankment, the rubber tyres gripped the loose pebbles in a forlorn embrace, gently forcing them backwards, arms and shoulders tensing to release the forthcoming locomotion. The journey was not to anywhere in particular, but heading only certainly away. Was it running away? No. Was it a test of speed, of improvement? No. It was the breaking away from the group at a molecular level, a tiny revolution. No niceties about pushing, no ball haranguing the back of the chair. No hearing of the voices drifting aimlessly over topic, time, and distance. None of the voices accountable for the thread of human relationship, of threads that had long since broke.
Mediation on the idea and valuation of the friendship process has caused a fault within the cranial cavity. A revolution of thought processes that, in truth, had been lying in wait to rupture for some time. The necessary faction that was missing was the catalyst, and it surfaced as soon as the opportunity showed itself. Missed opportunities now relate to a total rethink of current situation, perhaps too much, perhaps too little. Now the outwardly signs of me are me. But can the author accept the changes so readily and accept the differences in the qualities of variables? Do friends last forever, unchanged in basic essence since time immemorial?
The man walking the dog had said that it was a nice night. He spoke the simple truth, the essence of simplicity in a remark thrown away. It was not the scattered shot of bullshit. It was not the aimless topics that meandered through the night air, that so drove me away.”