When we were small we would go to carnivals then leave holding hands, me in my psychedelic leggings, you in your dungarees, candyfloss stuck to our faces in pink tufts. Our bare feet would slide through the grass as we laughed at the tickling sensation. Then the sun would set and we would stand atop our favourite hill, gazing in awe at the orange or purple-tinted sky.
Then the candyfloss turned to concealed beer, hidden in backpacks till the adults were out of sight.
It was always you and me: Best friends forever, ’till the end of time, pinky promise and throw away the key.

We got older together, our timelines weaving in and out of each other. You were there when I got my first tattoo. I sat in the second pew at your father’s funeral. You were godfather to my first child.

We can’t live parallel to each other anymore. Your news tore you apart and sent you spiralling away from me. There are faded pictures on my wall of beautiful sunny days, but all that is left now are memories of candy floss and Heineken.