old friends

claydagod12

getting into her childhood email is harder than she'd like to admit.

considering she didn't even make it--her parents did--it's a lot of back and forth on what they could've, and would've made it.

she's sitting in the library at 11:30pm when she finally cracks the code, a book about something completely unrelated to her major sits in front
of her, the pages turned and bent at the top. not by riley, of course, she knows better than that.

she leans back in her chair, a triumphant smirk on her face as she breaths a sigh of relief out her nose.

she picks her phone up from the side of the table and opens snapchat, sending mr. houston man a blurry snap of her screen with the words 'cracked the code' covering it.

she sets her phone down haphazardly and leans forward, deciding to go through her old emails.

it's not very full. she hadn't used the email in years, hadn't even thought of it in longer. the few emails were between her and her grandparents, or her and her parents. she smiles at those, especially those between her and her grandparents. bittersweet memories she hadn't realized she still had.

she clicks open an email with the header 'get onnnn'

it's riddled with spelling errors, but when riley realizes who it's from, a wave of differing emotions hits her like a brick.

she can't breath for a moment, her eyes just rereading the name. there's no fucking way, she thinks. no fucking way.

claydagod12
To: rileylman12@gmail.com

get on mc nwo!! My mom diesnt want me on so get onn

she laughs in disbelief.

their last conversation. at least, their last email conversation. it's really been that long? she hadn't thought about him in god knows how long.

clay... she can't remember the rest of his name.

they were childhood best friends. their parents had met a year before they met at some work function (their dads worked together). they kept in touch, had their kids, and then basically forced their kids to be friends.

it worked well. for a while, at least. they lived close enough that walking or biking to each others houses was commonplace, and their parents had enough trust in them not to get lost or eaten by gators on the way.

but middle school happened, classes separated best friends, and some promises aren't meant to be held.

by high school they weren't talking. even if they had been in the same classes. they didn't acknowledge each other. they forgot each other's existence almost. the many pictures they had from fifth grade and below were stored away in their respective garages or attics, dust settling on the glass, covering the memories they once had. a metaphor, in a way.

and then riley moved into a bigger house, began to reach for bigger things. learned more coding languages, learned more actual languages (well, learned isn't the right word, she still can't speak french), tried more sports, more food, began to dream bigger. and, to her surprise, she achieved a lot of things she never thought she would.

minecraft, and most other games for that matter, sat untouched for years, harboring themselves in the back of her mind.

she picks up her phone, opening snapchat and sliding on nicks name.