The only thing that cascaded through his mind as he heard his best friend disown him were the thoughts of how easy it was to let someone go. To break the bond that was forged in the distant past, and for it to become anew elsewhere.
It had been going on for days, maybe weeks or months, by now. But that did not matter, he had cast aside his own guilt, and believed that by becoming distant to his friend he could do him no more harm. Was this the right approach? He did not know, but he took its path regardless.
He had always thought of himself as being a good friend, always willing to help or to lend a hand where possible, always reachable no matter where he lived, and almost always willing to be a supportive person.
Yet deep down he knew that this was not entirely true; that, like others he had known, he had misused friends, had treated them as utilities to fill in the time, not fully appreciating their company or feelings.
It was entrenched this feeling that friends come and go throughout the course of life; that in all the valleys and flowing becks that the waterway of life takes, you sometimes lost a friend or two in the drift, but that the memories always remained. Somehow, somewhere, they remained anchored in the folds of the brain, and that memories drifted to the surface as and when they are recalled, consciously or subconsciously.
He knew, of course, that some people stayed in your life for as long as you, or they, lived no matter what, and stayed with you regardless of the chaotic scattershot direction that life takes.
Forever contacting but never being contacted, in this way he led his life.