sore throat

Memories hide in the little things - laughter during recess, phone calls on holidays, the smell of someone else's jumper after evening conversations about ‘nothing.’ Once upon a time, it seemed that time would never erase this ‘us,’ but now all that remains are unfamiliar cities, hungover confessions, and the feeling that everything important ended too soon. Music sounds like an old photograph: slightly worn, but still warm, even if inside there is already a slight envy of those who are now nearby.