I’m waiting for the waitress to bring me my key lime pie. I check my watch. There’s still time.

“Hey, there! I almost missed you. You did something to your hair.” You sit down opposite me.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, still looking for the waitress. “You probably forgot. It was just last week, but of course, we haven’t seen each other in –“

“Must be five years now?” you act like it’s a question, but I know you know exactly how long it’s been.

“So, well, how are things going? Are you making a lot of money in cryptocurrency now?”

I can tell you’re thinking about how to answer me. You’ve always been so careful. Then it looks like you’ve decided that it’s okay to tell me. 

“Maybe a little.” Then, “It’s been a while. I can’t remember who you’re seeing these days.”

I think, why is that important? But I know. You’re bored. My life has always been fascinating to you.

“Alison and I just broke up. It’s hard to imagine getting in that deep with anyone again. I’m going to lay off dating for a while.” I try to read your expression, see what your reaction to that is, but you’re good. You’ve been working on that poker face for a long time.

“Ah, that’s too bad. You guys were good together.”

“I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Understood.”

The waitress finally comes over with the key lime pie, and you order an espresso. I wonder when you started drinking those. They’ve always seemed too bitter to me.

“So,” I say, just as you start to say, “So,” and then we both look down, a little bit of nervous laughter escaping. You recover first, putting on that superior mask that I wish wasn’t so familiar. How did you become so smug?

I finish the key lime pie and signal for the check. You look at your watch, which somehow strikes me as the most ironic gesture ever. 

“Well, it’s been nice,” you say, with that eyebrow thing that I know means you don’t mean a word of it. You get up to leave, and I watch you as you walk away again.

It was years ago that I gave up trying to get you to tell me anything. Now I don’t even want to know – or I think I don’t. What good would it do? It wouldn’t change anything.  Somewhere along the line, you figured out how to go back in time. Now you come visit yourself every five years, and I am forced to see what I turn into.