8.22.25: Perpetually Late

I have a friend who says, “I’m five minutes away,” but somehow still manages to take longer than a Domino’s delivery. The math never maths. I don’t even get mad anymore. I just accept that his time exists in another dimension where clocks are decorative. He’ll roll in with a smoothie like we’re the problem. If he’s ever on time, I’ll assume it’s because he forgot something and came back. At this point, I factor him into my schedule like bad traffic or forgetting my AirPods. Still love him though. He’s consistently late. That’s a kind of reliability, right?