I am thinking back, back into those days, and reliving the moments locked in my memories now. Standing with K one day, holding hands, and knowing that I was about to leave, and I would not be back. One day, with rain pouring down all over us, S and I had made a run for it, and ended up getting wetter.
Another beautiful memory comes back, of watching the rain pour down after a hot evening, and getting soaked in it, knowing that a certain someone is close. Then that look, that described so many things, without really telling me what I wanted to hear.
I don’t know. It is becoming a habit, this melancholia, and I sometimes think that maybe I am drowning in it.