kissing dean. sitting on the steps wearing a red cardigan. child's size, the hems bordered with azure blue. not that the details of the cardigan are significant but it will always remind me of something- my arm is healing, and i can wear this new cardigan again. the freedom of going out in public again.
then i saw him. same skivvy, shirt, pants. blazer. that distressed look. same glasses. the greying hair. head hung, as if he was sad. maybe it was my imagination, but he did not appear happy to me. i watched him walk pass, cross the road then turn into a side street. the red of his bag was haunting, just like how in the dark you look at a bright light, close your eyes and you can still see it. the only different now is he no longer means anything to me.
moments later, in magazine store, in very comfy recliners, dean reached to hold my hands, while soft instrumental music plays in the background. the moment reminded me of something close to a movie. and i realised i've come very far.
it's always darkest before the dawn.