Grown Apart

People who need something from each other come together.

Eventually, something changes -- a job is found, a hobby is pursued, a move is made, a fight is had, a new person is discovered -- and that need isn't there anymore.

Some try to hold onto what they had. They visit when they can. They call and talk on the phone. They e-mail back and forth. They try to recapture what they once had.

In time, the visiting stops and there are less phone calls and less e-mails. The calls and letters that do happen become more terse. The conversations stay on the surface. Questions that attempt to delve are pushed aside with a joke, or are just ignored. Both do this, not to be cruel, but because they're not where they were and don't feel the connection they once did.

Then one doesn't return a phone call or answer an e-mail in a timely manner. The other waits, waits for a while before calling or writing again and the other hopes for an answer. When the answer comes, it's a sentence about being busy and a vague promise to write later.

The other waits again. After a time, the other quits waiting. Not out of spite, but because it's just not on the other's mind anymore. It's not as important as it used to be.

And the phone calls and the letters stop.