There’s going to come a time when the people you know have quietly moved on.  When all of a sudden you’ll go to look back on a memory of them, with them, and instead of a passing chuckle and a warm sense of solidarity there will be a room temperature feeling of unexpected nostalgia.

It’s funny how the feeling seeps through; how it all changes.  The graceful silent way in which  people and routines dissipate into an image in memory, like they’re half still materialized in reality, rather the one in your head.   And then the day will come when they’re so apparently not there that their existence in limbo will finally cross over; utterly cemented into a storage cell of illusions.