Remembrances

He was the one at the bar who said hello to him. He was the one who wore a tattered t-shirt and baggy shorts. He was the one who smelled like cigarette smoke mixed with gasoline. There was a pause from him before recognizing that he was once the boy who knew him best of anyone. Memories rushed in with such clarity, as if they were old movies playing for him on the silent TV up in the corner. So many happy memories of being high and laughing in the sun, of cutting school to play wiffle ball in the park, of swimming at the lake in the summers. Then the memories turned to fire. The kind of fire that burns nostrils then drips down the back of the throat. The kind of fire that burns in tin foil and plumes enticing smoke. The devil lives in fire, he affirmed to him, who the smoke scared. That was the last they saw of each other, until now at the bar. It would have been inappropriate for him to show the love still in his heart. How's your mom doin'? She's ok, and yours? Yeah, same. You take care. Yeah, you too.