The Fry

It was kind of awkward seeing The Fry again, after so many months of silence. I hadn't laid eyes on him since the seventh grade, and it appeared (outwardly, at least) that he hadn't changed in the slightest. Neither had I. Still I didn't hesitate sitting down at the computer next to his in the library, even though I fought every urge to turn and look at him. I wondered if I should say something. Something old friends say when they haven't reunited for a while. Except that was just it- we weren't friends, not by any definition. I never talked to him in school besides a passing hello every now and then, and as I recall he was pretty unpopular, and everyone just ignored him. Including me. So I didn't say hi.

 He was suddenly rigid and upright, so I knew he recognized me, too. Still no hello, not from either end. Just an awkward glance that we both exchanged inconveniently at the same time. I had no idea what to say. There was nothing to say. Like I said; we weren't friends. But at the same time, we weren't exactly the opposite, either.

 I guess it just made me a little sad, sitting there, mute. Not acknowledging his existence. Him not acknowledging mine. When he finally got up, gathered his things, and left, I watched him go. And waved.