The One Where I Walk
Tags: Short Story, Love, Walking, Friendship

Illustration by Agnes.

You used to walk everywhere when you lived here.

It didn’t matter if it was day or night, hot or cold, Sunday dawn or Thursday afternoon.

So when I miss you, I walk.

I walk a lot now.

I keep finding all these little picture-perfect moments in unexpected places, like the chess club with all of three members. They sit, make a move, move on to the next set. Chess is a game for even numbers, but the odd ones want to play. They rotate around the tables, so they each get a turn, I wonder how they determine the winner or if they’re just there to learn.

I see the kid dressed as Robin, blond hair and yellow cape flying behind her as she skips ahead, and it makes me want to skip too.

I smile at the handsome guy with the ugly dog.

I walk behind the cute old couple and slow down for the first time in maybe years.

I notice the palm trees. There are so many palm trees in Buenos Aires. Did you ever notice that? They’re everywhere, not just by the river or in the outskirts, they’re Green feathers in the concrete jungle. Breeze-powered shadows on the sidewalk.

There’s a film I love where one of the characters walks around New York listening to classical music: “I feel it’s quietly altering my feeling about New York city, with which I’ve always had a slightly conflicted relationship. I found that if you replace the horns and the shouting with say Shubert, or Telemann, the city becomes unbearably beautiful. After years of thinly disguised rage on both our parts, it’s like the music has mediated a truce between us”. I’m not in New York and it’s not classical music pouring out of my headphones today, but Khalid works too. And it’s oddly fitting that I’m thinking of you.

“You take me to places I’ve never known

And you push me to places I’ll never go.”

The music keeps me company as I walk, sometimes strolling, sometimes speeding along.

It doesn’t really matter where I’m going, if I’m meeting friends or heading home, somehow it feels like I’m walking towards you, though there’s too much ocean between us for that.

“We have so much in common

We argue all the time

You always say I’m wrong

I’m pretty sure I’m right”

I start walking at night too. You always said I should, but I was scared to. Now, I marvel at the countless golden windows blinking into life. More shades of yellow than autumnal Central Park. Behind balconies, half hidden between trees, with shades or blinds or curtains on the side, with pets or people silhouettes peering through the glass. I imagine infinite conversations contained behind those little yellow squares.

Day by day, step by step, I miss you less. The walks become my own. I fall in love with this city in a way I didn’t think was possible before. It has just enough memories to keep me tethered and just enough uncertainty to keep me curious. To keep me distracted, to keep me writing. The city starts populating my pages, mapping my moods with the things that stand out, the things I’d normally tell you about.

“Writing out my feelings is the only thing that works

I don’t hear from the friends I thought were mine too

But I hold on to the poems I would write you”

Day by day, step by step, I miss you less.

The walks become my own.

I still wish you could tag along.