“There’s a Fork in that Road!”

I have moved out of my parent’s house about four months ago.

When I was back there to visit a couple of days, while pulling out of the driveway, my best friend passed in front of me with his bike. He turned his head to the left, met my gaze — and went his way. Might be the windshield was reflecting, or he just didn’t recognize me. It has been a while since we’ve talked.

I used to spend every autumn holiday with him, in Greece, at my grandparent's house. That was childhood. I loved that time. I loved that kid.

A year ago he dropped out of school. He told me he wanted to work at a kindergarten.

We were driving down our street, he on his bike, me in the car right behind, towards the fork in that road. He turned left, down a dead-end, forever to stay in that damned neighborhood; and I turned right, towards the Autobahn, getting out of there.

Recently he was busted for selling drugs to minors.