Perhaps I had imprisoned those memories; his constant smile, and the way he would never actually look me in the eye. There was that time when he stared at me in disbelief, waiting for a response. I chose to just laugh and look at the road ahead.
It was nice being with him. It felt like resting on still water, my eyes closed and arms at my side. I’d reap in the clean air, and I could let out that slow exhale.
But he had left. And those memories would always come back, always scratching at my mind. I’d try to get them out but they couldn’t, even with all I tried.
Maybe it wasn’t me who had imprisoned those memories. It was those memories that had imprisoned me.
He was just the type to see her in the rain and hold up an umbrella. Except he wasn’t holding it above her; he was holding it in the distance with his back to her. That was the cold heart that he held so dearly and yet she still had the capacity to love him.
The sky swept with elegance, an upside-down rainbow smudged into the lengths of the sky at 6 in the morning. A cloud had erupted, quite literally, resembling that of a volcano, white paint dabbed above the crater, as if dreamed lava was cascading out. Slight tension arose as I listened to music, looking at a bucket of gold-yellow spilling into the clouds, a true victory of light over darkness. Red streaks tore the sky in a distance not so far, the moon still alight behind me, seemingly watching the breathtaking scenery with me. It was at that point did I realise that I was looking at the world turn, an entire open sky doing a sort of angled back-flip in slow motion. Not long after, I looked back at the main view to see that the cloud was too large to be able to move its stuck arse from the canvas any time soon – not that I hated that of course. I wondered what magic was happening behind that silver lining, but from that I instantly knew that the sun would not be putting on a show for me this Friday morning.