NEPHART.COM

I had a friend.

Such a lovely guy.

He used to arrive

every day

right at sixteen hundred.

First thing he did

was connect to the WiFi…

then glue himself

to his mobile phone.

After a formal greeting,

with a showy smile,

he would throw himself

on my bed,

leaning like a frog,

laughing to himself

at chats,

memes,

funny little videos.

My poems…

my songs…

they were somewhere

outside

his screen.

Sometimes he would nod

and say,

“Oh yeah… awesome.”

And then

his eyes would travel back

to that glowing rectangle.

I used to bring snacks.

He would say,

“Oh thank you.”

And start munching

like someone

who really meant it.

And strangely

that made me happy.

Just seeing someone

accept my meal

made my heart smile.

I had hundreds of things

I wanted to share with him.

Hand-picked poems

I had written myself.

Sometimes I would ask,

“Can I recite one verse?”

He would say yes.

I would read

just one verse.

He would add,

“haha.”

Then return

to his mobile.

I wanted to tell him

I really want to talk.

But he would say,

“Go on talking…

I’m here.

All ears.”

But he was not really

there with me.

I tried to understand.

Maybe he was tired

after office work.

But still…

that was my house.

And I do exist.

I couldn’t say much.

I didn’t even know

if friendship

was supposed to feel like that.

Sometimes he showed me pictures.

On his phone.

Places he went

with his other friends.

A…

B…

C…

D…

Not one picture

with me

in the frame.

I didn’t exist there

either.

He had an excuse.

He said

he tried calling me

many times.

Couldn’t get hold of me.

Yes…

maybe sometimes

that was true.

But most of the time

I just didn’t fit

into their group.

I even started doubting

the network company.

Maybe they forgot

to send me the missed calls.

Maybe all the notifications

flew somewhere

above my head.

After a few hours

he would ask

if my parents

were coming home soon.

I would say yes.

Then he would stand up

smile again

and say

“See you tomorrow.”

Same routine.

Same thing.

Every day.

Until one day

I couldn’t tolerate it anymore.

So I changed my number.

Because that was

the only thing

I could change.

Just to keep some distance.

And I hid

in my own home.

I couldn’t say no.

I couldn’t explain

what was happening

inside my head.

So I chose

to stay being myself.

Like the books

they borrowed

and never returned

to my bookshelf

I also

never returned

to their lives.