Whooooosh! Crackle crackle.

That is the sound of nine years of friendship crumbling around me.

You know, I fuck up relationships with people all the time. I'm good at it. Maintaining friendships? Not so good. But at least when I kill a friendship, it's because I did something stupid. Or chronically bad. Or something. But at least *I* did it.  And not because my friend's mother discovers she's missing a piece of jewelry. and because I was last in her house months ago, I must have taken it. And then she shows up at my door. And starts yelling.

Obviously, I don't expect my friend to defend me against his mother. Friends are nice, but parents are ..you know, parents. I did expect him to know or at least presume I was innocent, of course. So when he told me he "didn't know what to think" about the situation, it was like a second blow. My heart broke a little, then.


I don't blame him. I can't blame him. Family is family, after all. And his mother's ring is still missing, as far as I know. I hope she finds it tomorrow. But even if she does, I don't think things will be the same.

Whoosh. 
Crackle. 
Crackle.