[ the funny thing about friendship is this: it's surprisingly easy to lose the thread that binds you together, you can be close one day, and the next, it's three months, two weeks later when you get a familiar chime on your phone.

one name, two syllables. foggy. foggy. foggy.

remember, this is all your own doing. love and loneliness go hand in hand, and you find no other solution in your prayers, and so you don't try at all.

matt says yes when foggy calls, when he finds a pocket of time in between his pro bono cases and lying to himself about not missing that life, the devil locked away in his little box as if banishing it could set him on the path to a purposeful life.

funny thing is: it doesn't work that way.

matt arrives at josie's first, orders a beer for himself and waits. foggy must have things to do; big name law firms do things differently from what they'd previously had before, and now there is only one name left in the firm matt works in, and jury's out on whether he genuinely likes how it now sounds. he nurses his beer, and thinks of what to do next, when he has no real excuse to continue pushing his loved ones away anymore. when has he ever thought so hard about what to possibly say to foggy, of all people?

he hears it then, familiar footfalls plucked out from the white noise of the friday-evening crowd, and he asks josie for another beer, parked squarely before foggy when he senses him close. ]

Last good one Josie's got for the evening. Whether or not you can brave the whiskey is between you and your colon.