The other day I heard that an old friend of mine was getting married. I heard it from a true friend while she served me coffee at the restaurant she works at. I don't have a job.

I recalled everything that she and I had done for this old friend. The waitress was furious because she was promised a spot as one of the bridesmaids... but sadly, the bride kicked her off for reasons I am not sure of. I recalled our days in High School, where we were almost an inseparable group. I even remember, so vividly, prom night.

I remembered our inside jokes, our laughter in the halls that made sense to no one else. But when I was piecing together these fragments of my past I came to wonder:

Does she remember?

I know very little about another vanished friend of mine. I recall lunch tables, notebooks, artwork, indescribable horrors of cafeteria food and pouring salt in one another's milk.

Does she remember?

I have seen another friend of mine once or twice but he chooses to pretend I don't exist. We have had our ups and downs, as do most friendships. We used to get high on playgrounds and chase the neighborhood geese, play video games and practice staff-fighting.

Does he remember?

I have box upon box of old photographs, records of the times we all had, the days long forgotten I suppose. Right now they're in my closet gathering dust. I don't bother to look anymore. I don't listen to the songs we used to sing along to together. I don't watch our old favorite shows, or even let the old inside jokes cross my mind. Slowly they fade away. Maybe soon enough, I will forget, as they have, and all the memories will cease to exist. In ten, twenty years we may collide on a sidewalk somewhere, here or far away, and will not recognize each other's faces. We do not remember enough, or look through our photo albums anymore. Maybe in as little as five years, I will cease to remember too. Then maybe this pain will go away.

Or maybe in five years, I will be writing another one of these, reminiscing about the times that are right now.