When we first met, Kennedy and I could not be more different, excepting for the fact that we both are loud.
She: Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, liberal, atheist, small.
Me: None of those things.
And yet, I came to absolutely adore her. And she me. We played extremely well together. Minds dancing and sparring in equal measure. Our great commonality our sheer ludicrousness and ferocity.
Aside from that, we deeply trusted and confided in one another. We loved each other, sans romance, which irritates me to qualify, as if it were a lesser form, but, for those who didn't know us, I wish to stanch lascivious assumption.
A decade ago, there was a break. Though not a vicious or malicious one. Things could not be as they had been. We reached out to each other casually in these intervening years but never returning to the depth that we had been before. Despite the distance, I thought of her fondly and wrongly assumed there would be a time for more.
I remain. She does not.
I love you, Kennedy.
