Leaving friends always makes me think that this will be the last time I’ll see them. Whether with coffee cups drained with a pal on an afternoon or when visiting friends far away, I get the sense that time is getting short. I may never see them again, whether they live far or near. There’s a sweet melancholy in the thought. We have lived. We are now at ages that do not guarantee another morning. But we have had each other and have been luckier than we know at that.
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