The sound of her laughter still echoed faintly in the corners of my mind, like a melody drifting further and further away. I stood in the park where we had first met, my hands buried in my coat pockets, the winter air biting at my face. The snow crunched softly beneath my boots, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I could hear the familiar rhythm of her footsteps beside me.
But they weren’t real—just the fading echoes of a memory I was desperately trying to hold on to.
We had met on a summer afternoon. She was sitting on a bench, sketchbook in hand, her auburn hair catching the sunlight. I’d been drawn to her like gravity, the world around me blurring as I walked up and asked her what...