We didn’t say much that day. Just walked — the way people do when they don’t know what they’re holding onto, only that they are.
Someone cracked a joke. Someone didn’t laugh. Someone said they were fine, and we all knew they weren’t. But we didn’t ask. That’s not how we worked.
It was the kind of silence that only happens between people who’ve stayed — stayed through the weirdness, the fights, the late-night confessions over cold food.
We weren’t sitting in Central Perk. But somehow, that hill became ours. A place where the world paused, and we remembered who we were before life got complicated.
One of us always had a Chandler comeback. One kept showing up with Joey-level loyalty, even when they didn’t have to.
We were never perfect. We never tried to be. But we were there — when it counted.
This photo is stupid. Bad lighting. Bad hair. One of us mid-sneeze.
But in the mess, there’s something heartbreakingly whole. A reminder.
That once, we had a version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
Not the show. The real thing.
And we didn’t need a theme song.
We had each other.
And for a moment — that was everything.
