there is a boy I met on my first day in Copenhagen. well, my second day, but my first morning. I’d arrived the night before; this morning was sunny, bright, I felt confident albeit jet-lagged. At the station, I was trying to figure out my way to the university for the start of my Danish course. Confused, I had no idea where to go, wandered over to the map plastered on the wall, a boy in front of it, I start: “hi, do you know …”
– “I think we’re going to the same place,” how could he have known?
– “the Danish language class, right?”
Of course. It’s only natural to assume that every lost-looking English speaker on this morning was making their way there … I guess?
We took the train together, “are you homesick yet?”
Are you kidding? I’d just landed, I hadn’t been home even 3 airports ago – where is home? “Nah,” I’m not even thinking twice about being here, right now, my body may have arrived here but my spirit is still meandering in its track.
18, I was there once before. First trip even longer ago. I’m not that old, true, but I’ve been coloured-in a bit by now, that’s for sure.
“You’ll still be my friend tomorrow, right,” I ask, as we’re split into separate classrooms.
Of course, but tomorrow fogged our minds with more novelty.
We tried to reconnect over email, first, then texts, but somehow neither of us was the type to push it. Both inclined to be the easy kind of friend, there but not, we met only by chance, on a dance floor, the middle of a weekend, a tap on my shoulder, I look around !!! envelope him in a hug, “I know we barely know each other but I love you, dude” I yell above the music, a cliché but it feels right,
– “I love you, too” he laughs,
We break apart and somehow our feet miss each other for weeks all over again, sometimes a girl wrapped around his lap, sometimes a scarf around mine, at discos and in doorways, and I almost like it better this way, friend.