Martin, wait… You’re in France?

That is so cool! How did you ever end up in that city? Did you’re art scholar work take you there?

I know, the New City of York, just sounds kinda lame, huh.

Anyway, I can’t but help bring us to our past lives, remember how you would take me on the back of bike, you bought that thing with your own money, it felt so adult back then. We were just teenagers, pretending we knew what we wanted to do for the rest of our lives.

You said it was to impress the ladies, but you ended up impressing me.

We would ride for hours, you didn’t care about gas money. Even though you were dirt poor, barley able to pay tuition. We rode around our small big time city. We felt so cool back then, like nothing mattered, like it was us against the world. Our friendship grew, I feel, out of necessity, we both needed each other in a crucial moment of our lives.

At first I sat on the back, while you drove, holding to the tall fairing of the bike, eventually I asked if it was okay to put my arms around your waist, I remember you said why hadn’t I done it sooner.

I remember that was the first time I ever felt happy, clutching my face to your back.

Were you secretly hoping for that, huh? You cheeky bastard.

You wore a helmet, but I didn’t. At least not the first couple of times. How dangerous. We were so stupid back then. I can’t help but laugh at that now.

The wind pulling at the skin of your neck, throwing me your scent, it’s impossible to forget it you know.

The way you smell, that odor only particular to you, the way you’re hair smells, that’s what I mean.

Sorry, I know what we said, if life ever got us back together, we would not talk about our past.

Sometimes I take out that old jacket you gave me, and just hold it and crumple it, holding it tight to my skin, sometimes I wear it, but only when it’s cold out, I can’t help but remember you in cold spring day’s.

But a couple of wines make a sore heart reach for old and tall tales.

I know what you must be thinking.

Let’s not, you were alway so stiff, you’re pragmatic way’s getting the better of you, the only way you’d give, is if I massaged my hand against the back of your neck, eventually you’d led your guard down, letting me touch your back, then you’d strike, surprising me in new way’s every time.

I remember our first time, I was so scared, thinking you might punch me or something, we had a couple of shots, then I confessed I was jealous of people who got to touch you, but not me why couldn’t I cuddle my hands around you like she had done, she’s not even anything to you,

You shrug your shoulders and said that if I wanted too, I could, that nothing was going to happen, let it out of your system, but it wasn’t like that, it was more than that, after a long time, together we found out the truth.

Non the less, I hope this finds you well, regards

-Daniel.

P.S. In case you didn’t notice I’m drunk on cheap wine.