I sat on a bench and looked out across the river. The fog hovered over the water like a blanket just about to descend and the birds poked in and out of it as they dove for their morning's meal. I felt a creak at the other end of the bench and glanced up.
A familiar profile greeted my eyes. I smiled, and then I remembered I was mad at him and stopped. We both sat quietly, avoiding each other's glances and staring resolutely at the river, as if not looking at each other would make the gulf between us less oppressive.
He finally spoke. "We messed up, didn't we?" But it wasn't so much a question as a statement.
I looked away. "Yes."
"I'm sorry. For everything."
"I know." I turned my head to wipe a tear from my eye. We had really messed up something that could have been really nice. Both of us so proud and stubborn. "Me too."
His words came slowly and I knew they were hard for him to say. "They say we never get a second chance to make a first impression. But I don't know that there is a limitation on second chances on friendships and trying again. Maybe we could try again?"
I was quiet a long time and finally said, "Okay."
I smiled. I could see him smile out of the corner of my eye, and we sat in now-companiable silence as the birds dove.
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