There are good memories of you I am too afraid to touch.

People have a funny glitch. We forget what we must remember, and remember what we must forget. I cannot remember what time I took my medicine today but I remember you, us, on a cliff one afternoon, on a faraway mountain. I remember a notable space between us. I forget the rest of the day but I remember you proposing we never go back to the city.

This memory I wish I forget. Because we go back. Because we leave. Because that notable space between us expanded and in it are pieces of you that haunt me. Because every path is a way back to that afternoon. The more the space expands, the more I remember, the more I wish to forget. And I am too afraid to move, too afraid to touch.

Sadly,
The Small Apprentice