I will always remember those summer days on the terrace, the hot afternoon sun beating down on our backs and our beers, sneaking glances at you while you read David Foster Wallace, smiling when you chuckled at his nonsense and listening intently as you read me your underlined passages.
Doesn’t it mean anything that you’re my top friend on snapchat and I’m yours???
He always buys dinner and beer
He always lets me talk for way too long
He always makes too much eye contact
He always has that crooked smile
He’s always too much of a good thing
I will be forever grateful that you introduced me to Eric Hutchinson in 10th grade.
Did our three hour life chat at Library Bar this afternoon mean nothing to you?