some of the people i will never meet again

The woman in the back of the most prestigious gathering I have ever attended.
In the midst of speeches from PhDs and officials, this kitchen staff member sat in the back and listened. She had an expression of transparent disgust, revulsion, appallment, horror. The great and powerful men in the front of the room said many pretty things about the brilliance, virtue, and potential of the listeners. This kitchen worker in the back was implicitly not included. Picture it. A grand ballroom, wealth and praise in the front, truth sitting in the back on her smoke break.
I hope she's getting through school alright. It's not easy to cover a degree with part-time kitchen work.

My closest friend in middle school, who I lost touch with all through high school.
The last time we spoke was her high school graduation. I wish I could've loved her better. I understand now that what I felt was something other than platonic friendship.

The man in the kosher aisle at a rural local grocery store, when I was ten years old grocery shopping with my grandmother.
He looked at my with piercingly sky-grey eyes and for a moment I felt that he understood something intimately that I would never understand, or at least not for decades. His hair was solid silver and he dressed in plain navy blue. I estimate him to have been about 55, about a decade ago. I will never know his name.

The laughing cajun man who took me for a spin on his fanboat and told me wild stories about his friends, and his beloved Louisiana.
I quote: 'Louisianans talk to their cousins, not the cops. We stick together. That's how we survive.'

The total stranger I messaged when I dialed a random number in my town.
I sent him content related to the worship of frogs. I feel a little bad about that.

Myself, before I understood. I wish I could see her one last time.