23 Years and Some

2025.8.26

The last time I saw him,
we were boys in blazers,
with watery eyes
squinting into the futures

He stood tall back then —
clear-eyed,
steady-voiced,
a quiet leader
who gave our class a kind of calm
on that final day.

Twenty-three years passed.
In a different city,
both with thicker body,
we met again.
No ceremony this time —
just two friends
on borrowed time
in the middle of grown-up lives.

He's now a respected manager
at a fast-moving global firm.
Twice, the tides of layoffs
came dangerously close.
He remained,
but the numbers left a mark.

He wondered aloud
why loyalty is so easily dismissed.
And though I’ve taken
a very different path,
I understood.

We spoke of bridges,
Singapore,
durians,
families.
His voice is still calm.
His questions still kind.
He remains,
at heart,
a good man.

And I left reminded:
some friendships hold,
not because we talk often,
but because
they were honest
from the start.

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