A strange curiousity that's become part of a habit over time.
A salutations, reply heard; how events have transpired since last meet, a reply of like questioning after explanation.
Perhaps that's all that need be fulfilled, add in a little chit, a little chat.
It will come along with more in time, it always does so. Or it doesn't, neither has impact after all. 
But impact there is, a loss of steam, a slowing down. 
One not in puruit of free goods nor cheap thrills, just attempts to spread goodwill, care, friendship.
One always doing what can be done to be there, to assist, to help, to cheer and care for. 
Others find elsewhere, find newness, find expansion.
But time has pushed that strange curiousity from its time, it is but a habit to be regarded now. 
It shall still continue. But there's let out a small note, one of release. 
Perhaps one to be regretted. Perhaps one that shall be regarded as vain. As petty. Perhaps not even noticed at all. 
Or even, noticed, but none to care. 
But that shall be okay. This is but a note let out.

And things return to speed.