Hoe Zou Het Nu Gaan?

Strangely enough, memory can be polite. He doesn't call, he doesn't text, he doesn't make a scene, but suddenly, somewhere between evening tea and a boring TV show, it clicks back on – and there are those eyes again, that voice, and the phrase "what if..." It seems like everything has been experienced, let go, even signed in the archive under "former," but inside, a quiet light still flickers - like a lightbulb in an empty stairwell that no one turns off out of pity. It's funny, and a little sad: people promise to be friends, but who actually knows how to be friends after an ending? Only the music remained - soft, almost a whisper, like a conversation with someone who is no longer here, but who still doesn't leave. Because forgetting doesn't mean you stop remembering.