Written by Jacob Ibrag
I remember the last time I saw you. We were Rorschach
images, bent out of shape. Goodbye’s aren’t meant for people like
us, at least that’s what we thought at the time. In between tears, you would
smile and remain in denial. As the end neared, memories flooded the space.
We talked about everything, mostly the good stuff. For one last moment,
our fingers were intertwined. I’ll never forget this particular smell you
gave off. Even on the coldest day, I’d inhale Spring. You were a drug, and
I thrived on it. We promised that no matter what happened, we would
meet once more in forty years underneath the tree I first found you,
reading Persuasion. After a flight, a bus, and a two mile walk, I
was here. There you were, looking out to the sunset. Spring
was here, and Winter had just begun. With a quick
whiff, I became him again. Addicted.