It has been a year since we last spoke, but somehow I still dwell on that very first memory of her. I can’t say it was love at first sight because I do not believe in that. It was something more of being touchy feely and longing for something that was different. The night allowed itself to be fully enjoyed that day. The wind picked up slow, bringing us a beautiful breeze that caressed our warm bodies with it’s cold, thirsty self.
I never thought myself as having a photographic memory, for some reason I just had a really incredible one. I could remember the smallest details, the words spoken between people, and the thoughts that were flowing through my mind. I can control this ability like I can control my hand. If I do not want to remember something I only discard it, and with time it dissipates into my mental stream of unconscious things.
That day I chose to remember her, chose to remember that face, her shyness, but most importantly that long red dress she wore. She wasn’t the prettiest girl I had ever picked up, but she wasn’t the worst, and that meant something. Simple and yet stunning. My mind was obviously playing tricks on me.
I often allow my mind to basque in short burst of temporary madness imagining all the wild things that could have been. They say that what could have been doesn’t exist, but in my day dreams…everything is so real. I just wished she had taken a step out of her comfort zone, and she would have been swept up her feet.
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