Last summer, I saw you on my way home from work.
It’s cold outside. It rained earlier. A small shower that soaks through everything that you wear. It’s classic English weather, or so I’ve been told.
From here, from his position at the pier, he cannot see the sun. He knows it’s there. He can see its blood orange rays seeping through from the thin clouds.
Under the light, I can see why people find Jesus intimidating.
I turned the corner and there she was.
The scent of fresh grass. It brings me back.
Hey, It’s been a few years since our graduation and a lot has happened since then, huh? I guess we’ve had our issues since before our graduation, but it’s been so long that I’ve forgotten exactly when we’ve had the fight that really broke us apart.
The cat’s purr is a comforting sound, a rumbling that resonates deep in her chest. Its comforting vibrations trickle into my skin and into my lungs, wrapping so closely around my heart that I forget I need to breathe.
The cat stops walking and I, too, stop breathing.
It wasn’t hard to get hold of you. You were online when I sent the message. You might have taken a few more minutes to respond than necessary, but you did anyway, and I thank you for that.