Smack bang in the middle of a belly laugh, interrupting myself to correct a detail in her version of the re-telling of a yarn involving some hi jinx the pair us got up to; pausing to get the odd passing in-joke it might take me a second to remember.  Short-hand chat, one finishing the other’s victories or injuries, euphemisms we forget that others can’t ever remember.  Fighting passionately over the most trivial things (whether it’s better to wash dishes with or without detergent (it was a stressful time); I AM better at reading maps; you did NOT say that etc.); flitting to the most indulgent excesses of praise volunteered for on behalf of the other (“you’re amazing at y”, “you’re fucking brilliant at x”). Giggling at how we both bagged coloured-in versions of dreams, the outlines of which we had devoted hours to drawing (“he’ll be quiet but he’ll get you”; “you’ll have four, three girls, one boy”). Wondering. Reading the silence. Interpreting wrongly. Righting it with a hug. Not going home just yet. Yet knowing that’s where we each belong now. Too far from one another. Too many missed laughs between us; too few opportunities to be ridiculous; and always feeling all the lighter for it. The raging range of destinations that only a session with a best mate can lead to.

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In response to a ten minute writing prompt from me feathered aul mucker, Wee Blue Birdie, with the topic “Where would you rather be right now?” Feel free to grab and get gabbling with it.