I normally miss the details of the bus route for the most part, as my head is typically down in the now-in-vogue socially avoidant posture of phone staring, but today I’ve decided to take in some of the view from the window, as the seasons are changing in a way that they never did in my previous two years in Florida, and I can’t help but smile a little at the way the sun is hitting the vermillion and amarillo leaves in their final display of dying beauty before the wind takes them to the same place it takes all memories of beauty. 

How lovely that Jose is on Telegram; maybe he downloaded it because he finally has a phone again and is living somewhere abroad where this WiFi based messaging app is the main mode of communication. Maybe he’s on an organic tulip farm in the Netherlands, or starting a peaceful revolution in Bolivia; I haven’t checked up on the registry of peaceful revolutionaries in Bolivia admittedly, well ever. Wherever the fuck he is this time, Jose Donde, the beautiful legend lives on! While I consider what I will message him, I look out the window and notice how many streets and microsections of Iowa City I have completely ignored. I had messaged Jose to no response a few times over the last four years, but I figured that, because of how things ended during my post grad visit, he maybe didn’t want to talk to me. Maybe he blamed me for things. Or quizas he just hasn't had a phone or a care to reach out and has nothing but love for me. While nervous to find out, especially if he reveals that he has in fact been intentionally ignoring me, the jubilation of seeing his name on my screen overtakes any fears and I message him the very deep and thoughtful opener after a four year hiatus, “Yo dude.”