Upon Meeting a Kindred Spirit

She looks over the rim of her jasmine tea. "You never told me about where you went to school."

"That's true." As if on cue, music with vague Asian modulations plays in the background, reminding me of nights in college talking until sun-up and solving the problems of the world.

Only they never really went away.

"That's because you haven't finished telling me about growing up in the wilds of New Jersey."

We laugh. My new friend's face is weary but smiles easily and wears a story as twisted as my own.

As she shares tales of past traumas and triumphs, there is no need to tell mine. They are the same.

This friendship will last. And my jasmine tea is delicious.