We go to the Happy Beer Garden.

It’s a popular spot. I went there with Jack the night after we took the photograph, and I know I shouldn’t be putting myself in a position to drag up old memories, but I wasn’t a fan of the craziness of the Khao San Road and I didn’t fancy shopping around for a decent bar with Justin. Too much pressure.

We get a little table outside, kind of a two-seater bench, facing the traffic flowing past slowly, tuk-tuks piled up. Neon strips and fairy lights hang above our heads. A young girl tries to sell us a flower and when we decline, she pulls out the wooden frogs. Justin buys two.

‘For my nephews,’ he says.

We order a couple of beers.

‘Are they in Canada?’ I ask.

‘My nephews? Yeah. Toronto. God knows when I’ll see them again, though.’

‘Of course – you said you plan to be travelling for a long time.’

‘I have to. I can’t function at home.’ He plays with the damp beer mat between his fingers. ‘I don’t know how to be without Sabrina. You know, the last time I remember doing anything before she became a major player in my life was when I went to the movies to see Toy Story. The first Toy Story! And even then, she was probably there, too, with her friends, because we were from the same town, went to the same elementary school. So, in the words of some terrible, mediocre philosopher, I need to go forth and well, find myself. Do I sound like an even bigger douchebag than before?’

‘Absolutely,’ I say, not leaving it too long before I add, ‘Only messing.’

Our beers arrive and the waitress asks us where we’re from and if we’re married. We bypass the first question and say no regarding the second.

‘Why? Why you not married?’ she asks, quite offended. ‘Be happy!’

‘We’re just friends,’ I tell her.

She rolls her eyes, tuts at us.

‘You want tequila?’ she asks.

‘Sure,’ I reply. ‘Why not?’

‘I hate tequila,’ Justin says. ‘I’m too old for that stuff.’

‘Fine, I’ll drink both.’