Evie smiled to herself; she’d missed their banter. What had happened to the two of them? Evie tried to think back to the slow fading of their friendship. The shift was so subtle, as if it had happened naturally over time, which perhaps it had. Friendships ebb and flow all the time. But perhaps it was also because Ben had grown and developed and chased exciting opportunities over the past decade, while Evie had remained stagnant, so obsessed with the idea of becoming perfect in the future, that she had become stuck in the now.

Her latte arrived and she took a long sip, watching Ben closely over the rim.

‘Why did you choose me as your best friend?’ she asked.

‘Jeez, Evie, fishing for compliments much?’ Ben said with a laugh.

‘I mean …’ Evie tried to make sense of her thoughts. ‘Do you think we have a solid friendship?’

‘You nut. Of course we do. But to clarify, I didn’t “choose” you as my best friend. You chose me when you forced me to see Muriel’s Wedding and recited all the reasons why it was a feminist masterpiece.’

‘Oh yeah. I forgot all about that,’ said Evie.

Ben looked at her strangely, given it had only been about eighteen months ago for him. ‘But—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—I’m very glad you did, Berry. Because you’re sort of cool. I mean, in a very dorky way.’

‘Shut up.’

‘It seems like you’re going through a quarter-life crisis so I’m just going to tell you this once, but I wouldn’t have been brave enough to do any of this without you.’ Ben gestured at the podcast notebook in front of him. ‘I may be the one carrying our friendship in the good looks department,’ he said, winking, ‘but you’re the brains. And the humour. And well, everything bloody else.’

Evie was touched, genuinely, to her very core. She tucked the little conversation away for safekeeping, holding it in reserve for a time she’d need the boost. ‘Well, I promise not to let you down this time.’

‘This time?’ asked Ben as he flipped open his notebook to a page, which was crammed with notes and scribbles.

‘Is that all of your ideas?’ Evie asked, impressed.

‘Some. Some are just ideas for the short-film competition. Haven’t come up with anything good yet. You?’