Aman Basra

He never learned though, he never learned or accepted your departure. He thinks he’s moved on when he’s sound and sober, but when he’s drunk, really drunk, he’s the victim of his own nostalgia.

I miss the incongruity you bring, the excitement that comes on city nights with you. I miss the shenanigans, the escapades, the youthful bliss.

I want the certainty of my phone ringing, that anticipation of another human voice. I want the urgency of finding my phone and hastily saying hello.

This is our game. It’s mutually understood, there are no repercussions.