I got a call from a friend who’s been living in San Francisco for the past 20 years
We hadn’t spoken in months maybe a year
He said he just felt like chatting
Which coming from him was… weird

He still lives in this tiny apartment with a view that looks like something out of a California dream

Back when he was a student he had been renting there when the owner, an elderly Jewish woman, passed away
Her son didn’t want the hassle of a sale so my friend stepped in and bought it

Now he has a balcony with a view so amazing it always reminds me of San Francisco in the 60s in some TV show
Something about the light the colours the smell

But a few years ago he got divorced
She was a beautiful American
He’s an immigrant
He adored her

Since then he has sunk into something quiet and dense
He barely leaves the apartment
He says the view moves more than he does
He watches the fog roll in and out every day like a reality show

He lights his first joint when the clouds hit the balcony
Or at 18:30, whichever comes first
He says it like he’s proud
Like waiting until 18:30 makes the addiction more respectable

He smokes on the balcony and watches lives pass below
Scanning the street for the man she chose instead
But he’s not sure what he’s looking for
He told me that when he sees him he’ll recognise him for sure
I have no idea what he’s talking about

Most days he sits with a cup of his special iced banana coffee
He went on and on about it
Made me swear I would try it
I’ll post the recipe in the comments
Still haven’t made it
He says it only works if you drink it while staring at the horizon
That’s part of the recipe
Apparently the full recipe is even printed on the cup

When I asked if he was lonely he said
Not lonely
But yeah
It’s been a while since anyone called me by my name
Then he laughed
For real
Like it was actually funny

Then he told me something strange

Tourists stop on his street to take selfies
His building in the background, the skyline behind
Sometimes he waves from the balcony

They think I’m part of the scenery, he said
I don’t correct them

He said that’s the only time he feels real
Fixed in the background of someone else’s proof that they were here

When I asked him to explain he said that a few months ago a delivery guy started showing up every evening with a plastic cup and a straw
Iced banana coffee
No explanation
Same brand, same cup, every day

At first my friend told him there was a mistake
The guy just shrugged and said
It’s already paid for

Now he just takes it
Drinks it slowly while watching the city inhale and exhale

He’s keeping the empty cups
There’s a row of them now on the kitchen counter
Numbered in marker like days in a calendar

This is when he insisted that I switch and accept the video call because he wanted to show me those

This morning was cup 78, he said
I think if I hit 100 something will happen
Maybe the cloud will speak
Or she will