“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You’re back.”

“Yeah, for the day. My dad got a TDY here.”

“Cool.”

“Yep.”

For two friends who hadn’t seen one another in almost a year the exchange was limited, to say the least. For two 10 year old boys, this represented a decent conversation, relatively speaking.

“So,” Ben ventured, “How’s South Carolina?”

A shrug preceded the answer, “Like here…only more Southy.” They shared a chuckle, and for a moment things seemed like they could be as before. In reality, things can never be the same again. You can’t go back.

Motioning over his shoulder Ben offered, “You wanna meet Gabe and Lewis? We were gonna run over to the pit.”

“Sure.”

“Let’s race!” Ben announced, face lit up by glee and a warm Summer sun. His body twirled and hurled itself forward, a wide stretch of grass, confluent back yards to a dozen duplexes, serving as an impromptu race track.

The pace was quick. Time had passed. Knowingly or not, with joyful strides Ben left his friend behind, never to catch up.