I can’t forget the morning of September 17th. The others kind of mesh together, but not this morning. Laying on the carpeted floor, you on your back and me pinned to your chest “I could get used to this” you had said, sleepily and full. I always liked the sound of your voice in the morning best. I guess I’m kind of holding onto something that was never there, to begin with. But simple memories like these, they make me wonder how it couldn’t have been real. When will this all go away?
