They hated each other, Graham and Nancy. Not enough to be outwardly hostile, but just enough that when they were forced to be in the same room together, the norm at mutual social events, they’d each choose a corner of the room and mark it as their territory. Points were scored as they grabbed close friends to them, or with well timed laugh or look pull in some unsuspecting, slowly orbiting, acquaintance. This would go on for hours, winning a blond here, losing a brunette there, and if they were lucky enough snagging the tactical lead; an ex or better, a recent lover. Glances back and forth during the evening, or worse, over the dreaded wedding, would show their scores. No matter how many people driften between them the fog-of-war would never quite cut them off, there always being a breach in the walls, or small peep-hole through the crowd.
Of course it hadn’t always been like this. All conflict must starts somewhere, as all friendships must too. But as their friends would joke with playful scansion, ‘if parting was said to be “such sweet sorry”, there’s was a “breath of fresh air”. Still not one of them was willing to put their neck out and be caught in this internecine feud.