Case’s Substack

My teacher explained parallel lines. Two entities traveling and never meeting. It was so sad. I looked at my friend in his desk and chair combo and imagined the chalkboard falling forward and the two of us moving on rails out into the world. I could reach out and hold his hand if I liked.

He lived in a magic house. Everything was stained glass and stone and very old and very beautiful. This was a long time ago. Now it's an air bnb. It’s been renovated. Wine fridge. LED lights. Air hockey. Posters. I’ve seen it online. It’s a terrible feeling. I never got to say goodbye. I’m talking about my friend but I’m talking about the house too. Over time distance grows and you look for your friend and they are a spot on the horizon. Years later I saw him at the grocery store.

We made small talk.

What a let down.

I go by his house sometimes now that I’m old. There are recycling bags on the sidewalk. I rattle the doorknob. It’s a little joke. I’m a ghost! Hehe. I rattle it again and put my face on the stained glass.

It doesn’t make me feel better. 

I promise I’ll stop visiting. 

I make all kinds of promises.