I had a friend once. A best friend. We knew from the beginning we would be bound to each other for eternity. I was always happy. We did everything together. Walking, eating, sleeping. Everything. We were like a synchronized unit. It even got to the point where we could finish each other’s thoughts and sentences. One never went anywhere without the other. We were bound. But it wasn’t strange. Every other person had their friend. Then, one morning, I woke up. My friend was gone. The rope between us had broken. I remember feeling the frayed ends, wondering if it was an accident or something done on purpose. Now I have no friend. I wander the city. Alone, shunned. I keep to the outskirts. Keep away from authorities. Unless I find my friend, I will be seen as an outcast, no longer allowed in society. There’s a bigger problem, though. I have no idea where my friend went. I have no clues, no evidence. Nothing except for the frayed rope that used to keep us bound together.