When we went to the beach, we walked along the shore at night to smoke and we were high and then you were on my lap. You had a jacket, but we were so close to the water that it was still cold, so I held you.

I think that’s what you’re remembering.

I didn’t know how long we’d be there. I didn’t even know if you knew I felt the same. I just threw my coin into the fountain and hoped for the best. I didn’t care. We were in such close proximity that our breathing would not go unnoticed by the other. Your hand rested on my chest that would subtly vibrate as I spoke or laughed, though I didn’t speak much because I just wanted to kiss you. I wanted my lips to touch your face as gently as when a down feather glides through the air. I held your hand in mine like we were going to start a journey together. it’s as if a moment by the beach in front a dark and breathing ocean could bring us forward to a reality that would shed light to a life together.

That’s what I remember.

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