Full circle.
What a familiar sight. The bridge. The river. The mildly oppressive heat. And the strangely comforting smell of petroleum.
I've been here before. Almost two years ago. Black polo tees on a Saturday. We've come full circle.
The resignation that filled me then was absent today. In its place is a throbbing emptiness. Of memories. Bitter-tinged release. Of love lost and friendship gained.
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