Memories

It smells like late night and a phone that has been lying face down for too long. The silence is so thick that you can hear your heart flipping through old messages. Short “hellos,” long “don't leave”s, and silly jokes that seemed like salvation at the time are still alive there. The music is like those messages you didn't dare to send - it lingers, sways, doesn't judge.

The voice seems to say, “Let's admit it, we both miss each other, but we pretend we've already let go.” And that makes it even quieter. In every beat, there is a little regret, a little pride, and a drop of hope that one of you will still press “write.”