Never Really Gone

The city seems the same - the same streets, the same streetlights, the same wind in the treetops. Only now it sounds quieter, as if someone has turned down the volume of memories. Everything seems familiar, but no longer yours: footsteps echo hollowly where you used to laugh together. The shop windows smell of bread and the past, and on the corner, someone new is holding that very hand. The warmth of old conversations still lives under the skin, like the echo of a fire that has long since gone out. And there is no hiding from this strange heat - it does not burn, it just reminds you that once upon a time it was real.