wet alley bricks
They walk as friends walk. Comfortably close. Close so they can speak quietly. Close because the years they’ve known each other have eroded away the need for space between them. They have fewer secrets to keep, fewer worries to conceal, fewer insecurities to cover over. Still, they keep their conversation under their umbrellas.
They walk at an agreeable pace, even in the inclement weather. They don’t dawdle, but they’re in no hurry. They’ll arrive when they arrive, and a few minutes early or late won’t matter. They’ve walked this alley before with the same destination in mind, and they’ll do it again. Over the years, the minutes late and the minutes early cancel each other out.
There will be coffee when they arrive, and maybe a little cognac to ward off the chill. If they needed a reason to walk companionably through the drizzly evening streets, that will serve as well as any other.
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