in a hundred words.

Summer. We’d be on another escapade, maybe at a park, or the mall parking lot, or on your rooftop waiting for the sunset. It wasn’t so much about the adventure than it was being with you and listening to the music and the silence and the beat of your heart next to mine.

Winter. We’d be together. It would be cold (dreadfully so) and I’d forget to bring a jacket so you’d offer me your sweater. Despite my protests you’d pull it on me, giving me a small smile and reaching for my hand.

Instead, I chose to walk away.