This memory of you

[This is a work of fiction.]

>

You always used to sit on my right. I remember how much I loved to turn my head and look at you while talking. You used to tell me how you spent your day, talk to me about your past, make dreams about our future together.

You were the one who always started talking and I would complete your sentences. I cannot ever remember you saying something that would make me disagree or make me feel like I wanted to say something completely different.

We used to spend all our summer nights like this, on the narrow balcony of my small apartment downtown. Just the two of us with a bottle of frozen white wine, talking and laughing for hours. Always until some neighbor from another apartment complains about the noise and we had to get inside. We used to call my apartment our little oven cause it was too damn hot those nights.

Closing the doors and getting inside we used to feel like children being punished for something they had done. We would then go to bed and make love, and then continue talking all night long as if we needed to say everything to each other. We would talk until we fell asleep one in each other’s arms. And this is how we would wake up each morning, one in each other arms.

Everything was amazing. Almost magic. I had never felt like this before. It was so great that I could not even recall how my life was without you.  I remember feeling that it was worth being alive just to spend some more hours with you.

It is summer already and I still live in the same apartment with that narrow balcony downtown. Maybe this is why today of all the times that I met you on my way to the office, I had that memory of you.

Now, everytime we meet I say hello and ask about your news just like I do with everybody else I once knew.

This is how I feel about you now. You are just somebody that I used to know. Somebody that I pass by on my way to the office. Somebody that I passed by on my way of living my life.

It was only today that I had this memory of you. The memory of a love that no longer exists.

9 thoughts on “This memory of you

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: