There are plenty of them—those memories of you and me. And us. They are all scatterted across the hallway of my mind. I can neither do with them nor without them. They just sit there aimlessly or engage in an emotional battle with me.
In such moments, something strange happens leaving me lost and wondering what happened to us.
It is perhaps a scent my senses picked up or the brush of an old shirt against my skin—that’s when those seemingly idle memories rush in my direction, distorting my sense of reality. Such instances last a moment or an entire evening but they leave me with a second imprint of you on my heart.
And I would have unknowingly added another memory to deal with.