Taggs danced into my life, and just as quickly, danced out of it. But friendships are funny things—sometimes they find their way back when least expected.
Looking back, I can count numerous friendships I’ve had, drifted away from, and then reconnected with.
Taggs, that was his nickname, was one of those. We collided in the hallway, both trying to pass. He darted left; I shifted right. He adjusted right; I stepped left. For a few seconds, we danced in perfect confusion. That was it, we became best buddies.
We spent years side by side, but life had other plans. School ended, routines changed, and slowly, Taggs became a name I heard less and less. His name faded from my phone screen, our messages growing sparse. The last one—“Let’s catch up soon”—sat unanswered for months, then years.
*****
The Spanish sun burned against the white stone terrace at Steve’s wedding in Murcia, Spain. I spotted Taggs across the crowd. Taggs froze mid-sip, his glass hovering near his lips. My breath caught in my throat. Then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, we moved—laughing, arms wide, crashing into a hug that felt like home.
“How long has it been?” I asked.
“Ten years, give or take,” Taggs replied.
Introducing our respective partners, we promised to meet later for a proper catch-up.
We nattered well into the night, reminiscing about lost years, work, relationships, and life in general. We promised to be better at keeping in touch. We failed.
*****
I scanned the crowded room, searching for his familiar grin. My eyes landed on a framed photo surrounded by flowers. My stomach dropped. The suit and tie were there, but he wasn’t.
Some friendships burn like comets—brilliant, fleeting, leaving trails of light long after they’re gone.