David Freund
Free Writing
Since
first grade
Jonathan
and I have been
best
friends.
(He
was always “Jonathan,”
never
Jon
or
Johnny
or
Whatever.)
Second
grade.
Third.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Sixth.
Seventh.
Best
friends,
every
year,
even
third
when
we had
different
teachers.
We’d
still walk
to
school
together,
eat
lunch,
together.
Play
all weekend
and
holidays
and
summer.
Together.
One
day,
earlier
this year,
Jonathan
asked me—
whispering—
if
I thought
Emily
Booker
was
cute.
I
looked at him,
saw
in his serious eyes
that
nothing
again
would
ever be
the
same.
No comments:
Post a Comment