Today a peculiar thing happened. I was busy getting flipped off by the statistics on the computer, when one of my colleagues tapped me on the shoulder. She looked excited, like when the curly haired girl from Sales was found snorting a line of coke in the second floor women's washroom. I turned around and faced a picture of you. I almost gasped at how different you looked. Your face was droopy. Your piercing eyes now resting above bluish bags of tiredness. Your hairline shying away from your face. Ashamed I suppose. You still had that nose and those pouty lips. But now even being clean shaven was not making up for the years of compromise and residual hair gel it had to subject itself to. You were wearing a button down that bulged itself around your waist. It reminded me of squishy toys getting pressed into submission by those hydraulic presses. At the end of their endurance, how they give up and spill out beyond the circumference of the machine. I wondered if you took off your shirt with as much gusto now as you had done before. She was standing beside you, wearing a drab looking top and comfortable jeans. A solitaire on her ring finger. She had the same haircut she had years back, flat looking black hair falling around her face; ending just above the nape of her neck. Even the hair spray influenced bangs couldnt quite veil the temper in her eyes as your scrawny, unruly looking child clutched at her legs. I remember when I met her the first time and she was nothing but just a long time friend, nothing to be too upset about if you took her jewellery shopping. I could laugh out loud. The monotony of a shallow and unfulfilling life dripped from the picture. You looked like you wanted to run away and she looked like she was about to mix arsenic in your protien shake. I smirked internally at the thought of protien shakes. Your paunch would disagree. She waved the picture infront of me and asked, "I met them at a dinner party this weekend. He said he knew you quite well in the '15s. He asked me about you quite a lot that night. How do you know him?". I looked at your sunken face and looked at her again. I said firmly, "I dont know who he is." It felt good.