There was a Tuesday, wasn't there? The yellow house on Vine Street, where we found a lost kitten. Funny how its meow sounds like your laugh in a way I can't explain. I never told you that.
Sometimes, I find myself wandering past that house, looking for something that isn't there anymore. Continue the search.
Do you remember the foggy morning at the old pier? The air was salty, and you said something about mermaids. I shrugged it off but secretly wished there were, just to see your face light up.
I've been meaning to visit again, maybe this time there'd be less fog, or more truth. Piecing it together.
Then there was the time we sat on the rooftop, counting stars while making up constellations. Your Orion looked nothing like the one in textbooks, but it was ours.
Sometimes I sit alone up there, tracing your imaginary lines with my fingers. Find your way back.