It was a short visit to your place. After a long time, no less.

Maybe I just wanted to remember how it felt to stand beside you.

It was a perfect day, despite the sun being too shy to smile. Slow wind, young trees, light green. The color reminded me of your favorite sweater. Although I did not quite remember if it was yours or mine. At least, this place had finally become alive again. Cold, but alive. I listened to the sound of my shoes against the stone steps. This was the only place where my shoes produced such melody. A song mine, but not quite ours.

“You’re still here.” It was the only greeting I could think of for you. As if stating the obvious was any help. You would never change. Not anymore.

I saw someone across, a boy around my age. Maybe he was visiting someone too. A while after our eyes met, he approached me with some flowers in his arms. The boy silently offered those flowers for you, small white blooms arranged in circle. At that point of time, I did not feel the need to say anything and I got the impression that he felt the same. We exchanged quiet smiles.

“Look, a stranger was being kind to you.”

I wish I was kinder to you.