by Martin Phillips
I sit across from myself at a cafe. We make the awkward, stilted conversation of college roommates meeting years later, tinny bossa nova covering the silences. As our coffee cools, we begin to warm up to each other’s company. Anecdotes, inside jokes, and memories begin to bubble up where small talk about weather used to sit. I ask why we ever stopped talking in the first place. My mirror shifts uncomfortably in the wooden seat. We both know why. After a moment, we gather our belongings and make plans to do this again. We embrace, and for a moment, we are one.
