The ride to our house was awkward to say the very least. Every mile seemed to take ten miles. Every traffic light turned red. And it seemed like stop signs just happened to appear from thin air on corners that never had them before.
I chose to ride in the back so that the two old friends could get reacquainted. I heard the words ping-pong back and forth between them, but I wasn’t truly listening. I kept staring at the back of Robert’s head, that light brown hair of his shorn close to the scalp, and thinking of our past.
We met in a public speaking class at Eastern Michigan University. It was my freshman year and his senior year. I can’t remember how we struck up a conversation, or what we talked about, or anything like that, but I will absolutely never forget seeing him walk into the cla
