Less Than a Friend

We are not friends.

We’re not even close. We’re just trapped in the same room, complaining about the same shit, and somehow we dare to call it friendship. You’re not my friend — you’re just someone I endured the clock with.

And once the paycheck shifts, so does the bond. All the fake smiles, the forced small talk, the birthday cakes in the pantry — gone. The moment someone walks out the door, it all dissolves into nothing.

It was never friendship.