Best Friend

I can’t remember the specific moment we met, though it was certainly in grade school. Were we ever in the same class, or did we simply get to know each other because we both were stuck in the same after-school program since our parents worked late?

Many of my fondest memories of my early childhood were with you. Our mothers turned out to be childhood friends, which might have made it easier for them to let us stay over. We played Pokemon together, fantasizing about making our own adventures using the system. Rollercoaster Tycoon was a shared hobby, and I remember one night where we stayed up late watching a bunch of Power Rangers episodes on VHS.

It was an innocent time – though we were naturally mischievous. I remembered learning a new word one day, one I didn’t know the meaning of but through context knew it had to be bad. Of course I shared one day, when we were standing in line for some reason or other. “Masturbation.” You repeated it, and then said it again. You could tell it was bothering me as we neared the adults at the front of the line. You knew to stop before they were in earshot – and I learned to keep the bad words to myself.

Back then, I couldn’t imagine anything better.

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