It is midnight, and I cannot sleep, still shocked by the news I heard at twelve twenty-four.
Reza messaged from Sweden: “What happened to Nasser?”
Me: “Nasser? Which Nasser?”
Reza: “Our Nasser! Nasser Zare.”
Me: “What do you mean? What happened?”
Reza: “He’s died. Look at Ehsan’s profile picture.”
Then came calls to old friends, a little time for the news to be confirmed, and that was it…
We were in our first year of middle school. I still remember a brown-skinned boy sitting beside me with a smile that stayed with him to the very end of his life. It did not take long for us to become friends. At that age, people do not weigh up friendship. They simply become friends. Whenever I think of middle school or high school, I see Nasser beside me, smiling. We lend each other pens. Sometimes he copies from me, sometimes I copy from him.
But the world moved so quickly. Seven years passed, and suddenly we were preparing for the university entrance exam. After the exam, I left Ahvaz. Nasser stayed to try again the following year. Then came studying, more studying, military service, looking for work, and on and on…
We did not lose touch entirely, but it was never the same. We drifted so far apart that, at best, we might check in once a year at Nowruz, or perhaps during Ramadan. They say the universe is expanding. In that expansion, we move further and further from the people we once shared our lives with, and call it “the way things are”.
People who were once closer to us than brothers—people we confided in, laughed with, skipped classes with—suddenly disappear from our lives before we have even told them, “Brother, you mean so much to me.” Told them from the heart, so it might reach theirs. What comes from the heart, after all, finds its way to the heart.
If I remember correctly, the last time we saw each other was around the New Year. We had arranged for our old friends to meet again, for old times’ sake. Nasser came with his familiar smile, as always. I knew his troubles were heavier than ever. We agreed to meet again. But there is never enough time.
This photograph became our last meeting.
Perhaps we will sit beside each other in the next world, too.