We’re visiting friends in our old neighbourhood to break our fast.
Before descending on them, we decided to visit the local mosque for asr.
As soon as we pass through the gate, my eyes join with another.
“Salam alaikum,” I say, as the other chap twigs.
It’s been twenty years, but he still remembers my name.
“We used to work together…” he begins.
“Yes, in that warehouse where nobody got paid.”
We can’t help chuckling at the memories. He tells me it got even crazier after I left.
It’s funny how you can disappear for two decades, but still strike up conversation with an old friend as if no time has passed at all.
Last modified: 22 September 2024
